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FLORICE, PUT THE VAIL OFF. IT’S NOT LUCKY FOR THE BRIDE.”-(P. 7.) 




THE_^ELEOT SERIES. 

A MONTHLY PUBLICATION, 

X^evoted. to GS-ood. ^Reading in -American ^Fiction. 

Subscription Price, $3.00 Per Year. No. 13.— AUGUST, 1888. 

Entered at the Tost Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter. 


THE BRIDE ELECT; 

OR, 


The Doom of the Double Roses. 



BY 


^ISnSTIE 

Author of “Beautiful Rienzi,” “Corinne’s Ransom,” “Waiting: for 



NEW YORK: 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers^ 

31 Rose Street. 


Entered according to Act of Congress^ in the year 1888, 

By Street & Smith, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. 


a 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


CHAPTER I. 

A STEP WITH ALEXANDEE. 

At five o^clock, one July afternoon, a lark was soaring in 
upper air over the city of Edinburgh, and, poised on trem- 
ulous wings, its dun plumes fairly quivering with joy, it 
sang its loud, ecstatic paean as if it would sing its little heart 
out. It gazed with a bird^s brightest intelligence at the 
lovely map that lay beneath, where the kindly sun lit up 
the peaks of the Salisbury Craigs into spikes of gold, 
painted Arthur’s Seat into a gigantic emerald, and im- 
mured hoary Corstorphine into mild beauty, while the 
Pentland Hills crouched, lion-like, amid their blue mists 
over the glittering city on its triple throne, and the Firth 
of Forth, dazzling as liquid silver, kissed Galina’s feet. 

It was west of Edinburgh, where stood a tall, old man- 
sion, planted amid turf and trees, and arabesques of fiowers, 
and girdled by a quiet lane in front, a turbid canal at the 
rear. 

Four young ladies were disposed in various attitudes of 
negligence or industry around a table, while a lady, old 
enough to insure respect and firm enough in expression to 
exact obedience, matroned the gay household. The dainty 
carpet of sweet sea tints and creamy lights, the fantastically 


6 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


elegant lounges, and the richly clothed tables, were each 
heaped with the snowy waves of lace, lawn, and muslin that 
comprised the work of the merry group. A robe of filmy 
tulle lay huddled on the piano, wreaths of crisp crape and 
shimmering lace garlanded the harp, a chaplet of orange- 
blossoms in a nest of sheer white satin reposed on a fat 
velvet foot cushion. 

But there was one who stood apart, her back to the 
bridal array, her tender, dreamy face looking out into the 
sweet summer. A stately creature — tall, well-poised, grace- 
ful, with changeful depths in her dark eyes, and hashing 
tides on her rich cheek, with a lovesome mouth, though 
resolute, and a nose that Lady J ane G-rey, or, better still, 
a Charlotte Corday, might have had — straight, patient, 
heroic, with the faintest possible chiseling off the point, as 
one might correct by one delicate touch to the too perfect 
nose of a statue. 

She leaned against the casement, one foot on the low sill, 
her brow pressing the cold pane, her hands loosely linked 
and hanging with careless grace at one side. She was not 
hearing her merry bride-maids as they sewed and chatted, 
and she was not seeing the lovely view without, as the trees 
whispered, and the fiower-petals sailed on the summer air; 
yet her soul was filled with the cheer of perfect happiness, 
and the earth seemed very fair to her. 

A little maiden rose from her place, crying to her com- 
panions, with an arch glance: 

^^See, Madge, Jessie, Marian, now we have finished the 
vail, let us try the effect. I shall personate the bride, you 
shall vail me — gracefully — so!” 

She was roguishly regarding her own reflections in the 
opposite mirror, through a mist of sheeny tulle, when the 
elder lady turned her head, caught sight of the pretty 
mimic, and cried, hastily: 

^^Florice — Florice! put the vail off! What are you 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


7 


about? You mustn^t wear a bride’s things on mortal 
frame till she has worn them; it’s not — not lucky for the 
bride.” 

‘‘Oh, Mrs. Ellathorne!” and “Ha! ha! Mrs. Ella- 
thorne!” burst from the irreverent bride-maids; but Florice 
Calvert, sister of the bride, hastily threw off the bridal vail, 
with a glance at the silent figure in the window. 

Softly she folded the vail, and softly laid it down, her 
eyes yearning as the brooding dove’s, fixed on her sister, till, 
waked by silence from a smiling reverie, she turned her 
calm, noble countenance toward them. 

In a moment Florice was at her side, brimming with 
impulsive emotion. 

“Glencora, my dear, my dear!” she murmured. “You 
shall never meet ill fortune, if Florice be your fate !” 

Glencora took the passionate, upturned face between her 
two hands, and stooping, kissed it on each cheek; then, 
with a little sigh, succeeded by a sudden little smile that 
transfigured the majesty of her expression into childish 
radiance, she put Florice aside, and leaned on the casement 
again. 

Mrs. Ellathorne cleared her throat, and looked at her, 
stitched busily a minute, and then broke up her charmed 
silence. 

“Glencora, will you continue your jotting?” Upon 
which the bride started, and, with blushing cheeks, picked 
up a small black morocco note-book, gilt-edged and clasped, 
and tapping upon the board with the slender pencil she 
had drawn from its sheath, waited, with bright regards 
fastened on Mrs. Ellathorne. 

“You had arrived at Venice in the second week of 
August,” began that lady; “ write how long you will prob- 
ably remain. A week? Then the last of August sees you 
en route for Switzerland. Ho? You will not wander far- 
her? Then just add the date of your probable return. 


8 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


tear out the leaf, and give it to me. Jot down a duplicate 
for yourself.^’ 

Glencora^s pencil paused; her eyes were again wandering 
over the sunny lawn, and down the long avenue — this time 
her gaze concentrated, her lips thrilled with repressed ten- 
derness. 

Some one comes, clanging behind him the black iron 
gates that form the culminating point of the green vista, 
walking hastily, with swinging cane and firm foot, who 
quickly divines who stands in the parlor window, whose 
pace quickens at the sight — a gentleman with frank and 
fearless eye — graceful — gracious. 

Glencora sees him through a bride’s eyes; and he is very 
comely. 

^"Hush, girls!” ejaculated Florice to her chattering com- 
rades; here comes Alexander!” 

Glencora dropped her note-book, and, touching the 
spring of the casement, which slid back, Alexander Buc- 
cleugh leaned against the window post, among the honey- 
suckles, and looked at Glencora until she drew closer to 
him, and put her two hands in his. 

You’ll come in, won’t you?” murmured she, smiling at 
his whispered greeting. 

No, bonniebel!” — ^very decidedly — not just now. I’ve 
just come from Prince’s street, and was going home, but 
thought I needn’t pass Lady-Bank without running up to 
show you what I chose. Will you look, Glencora?” 

He looks proud and contented. To-morrow is his wed- 
ding-day, and Glencora is his bride-elect. 

He took from his pocket a jewel-case, opened it, and ex- 
posed a pair of pearl bracelets, whose translucent drops 
gleamed through a fairy-like tracery of gold. 

Manacles for me?” she said, archly. 

^"No; for Mrs. Alexander Buccleugh!” whispered he 
back. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


9 


Glencora bent over him a moment, with soft, womanly 
confidence, and praised the gift, and, in lower tones, 
praised, perhaps, the giver. 

^^And now I must go,^^ said Alexander, presently. 

Madge, Marian, Jessie, Florice, are you all there? Ah! 
what a picture!” 

Looking past Glencora, he surveyed them all at their 
graceful toil, received their merry reproaches at his haste 
with small edification, and then took Glencora^s hand. 

Come with me a little way,” said Alexander. 

She looked round at Mrs. Ellathorne, with habitual ref- 
erence to her judgment. 

Just to the gate, Glencora,” urged he. 

*^Too sunny for her now, Alexander,” objected Mrs. 
Ellathorne. 

Just a step, ma^am. Come, my girlie.” 

So Glencora laughed, and disobeyed Mrs. Ellathorne; 
and as she stepped over the low sill, her trailing drapery 
shook the honeysuckles, and the larks rushed out with a 
whir, and sprang straight up into the sunny ether, singing 
loudly. 

Arm in arm they paced down the long, graveled walk. 
The tall beach and graceful lady-birch arched the way, 
and fiung green shadows, fretted with golden light, upon 
them. 

Glencora leaned upon Alexander's strong arm; she 
seemed a willing captive, as he lured her still farther and 
farther down the walk, and the bride-maids in the drawing- 
room exchanged smiling glances as Alexander plucked a 
spray from the prickly holly-hedge by the iron gate, and 
placed it in her blue-black hair, then played with one of 
the long, loosely curled tresses that fell low down her back. 
Splendid tresses they were, and tied together at the back of 
the head, in a rich cluster, by a narrow green ribbon. 

They saw Alexander open the gate and tempt her far- 


10 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


ther; they saw her falter and look back at the house; and 
they saw him take her handkerchief — a small one, laced at 
the edge — fold it from corner to corner, and tie it under 
her chin; and then she went with him, and he shut the 
gate between her and Lady-Bank. 

^"Foolish!” exclaimed Mrs. Ellathorne. ‘^Glencora 
knows she can’t go out with him just now; and the sun will 
give her a headache. I wish- ” 

She stopped, as a servant opened the door, and stood 
waiting to speak, some snowy lace over her arm. 

Well, Jean?” 

Please, ma’am, here’s the lace that Miss Florice was 
wantin’ ironed, and, please, cook wants to see you.” 

She still waited at the door, her eyes fastened on the still 
visible Glencora, walking in the lane with Alexander. 

^^May I take Miss Calvert’s cloak and bonnet, ma’am?” 
said the girl, respectfully. 

Yes, yes, Jean; you are thoughtful. Go quick,” said 
Mrs. Ellathorne, leaving the room; and Jean did so. 

Florice watched her from the window as she glided down 
the leafy avenue, Glencora’s long cloak over her arm, her 
little bonnet in her hand; and, as she watched, Glencora’s 
favorite hound tore round the house, and ran after the 
maid. 

J ean angrily ordered it back ip vain. She appeared to 
threaten it, but the creature only stood as long as she stood, 
and then moved after her every step she took. 

Florice’s heart was very light, as her eyes roamed over 
Lady-Bank, after the maid had disappeared on her 
mission. 

Florice loved her sister with no common love; she looked 
up to her as to some pure, superior spirit, whose full happi- 
ness was but a reward for such purity of heart. From her 
post at the window, she could see the pointed gables of 
Alexander Buccleugh’s lovely summer residence — Glencora’s 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


11 


future home — for it was the next estate to Lady-Bank, and 
equal, if not superior, in beauty to the latter. 

And Lady-Bank was no common suburban nest. The 
situation was bewitching, and the mansion itself a marvel 
of architectural grace. 

Lady-Bank had been the home of the two ladies, Glen- 
cora and Florice Calvert, ever since their parents^ death, 
many years ago. 

They were both heiresses of some small property, but 
though Glencora had come of age three years before, she 
still preferred to live under the roof of her kihd guardian. 
Captain Drummond, with her sister Florice, who was 
scarcely seventeen. Mrs. Ellathorne, the most discreet of 
widows, and the only sister of the retired captain, ruled the 
household with kindly hands, and brought up the captain’s 
pretty wards in the way they should go, with irreproach- 
able integrity. And so it came to pass that just one year 
ago, when Mr. Alexander Buccleugh bought the beautiful 
estate of Denburn, and became nearest neighbor of the gal- 
lant captain’s family, and drove every morning past lovely 
Lady-Bank, on his way to the great United Kingdom bank, 
in Prince’s street, of which he was principal manager, and 
sometimes in the dewy summer evenings caught a glimpse 
of the two sweet ladies Calvert, as he returned to his bach- 
elor’s abode. Sometimes it happened that his thoughts 
lingered in the cool Lady-Bank avenue long after his eyes 
were resting on the aristocratic splendors of Denburn 
Den,” as he was wont to style that mansion. And, of 
course, nothing was more natural than for the young 
banker to pay his respects, at the earliest possible date, to 
his nearest neighbors, and to find in courtly Captain Drum- 
mond a most desirable friend, in Mrs. Ellathorne a sympa- 
thizing matronly adviser, in pretty Florice the best of little 
confidantes, in beautiful, regal, bewitching Glencora, his 
hearths delight, and his lifers most envied companion. To 


12 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


all of which arrangements of the young people, the captain 
and his sister said never a word of dissent. 

These two families lived some two miles from Edinburgh, 
on handsome estates, upon the east bank of the canal, which 
flowed inland to Glasgow, Arbroath, etc., and was lost in 
the heart of the city. Captain Drummond^s house itself 
stood in the center of the grounds; a spacious lawn stretched 
in front, beyond which lay a handsome garden, whose ivied 
wall shut out the quiet lane which led up to the two houses. 
Behind the houses, and at the foot of the grounds, the 
canal meandered, being private ground on the Lady-Bank 
and Denburn side, but much frequented on the other side 
by foot passengers, and carriages, and the sturdy barge 
horses. 

A lovely spot was this one which Florice Calvert^s eyes 
scanned, this lovely summer eve, and from Lady-Bank's 
drawing-room windows she could see, over the hawthorn 
thicket between the two estates, the roof of Denburn House, 
her sister's future home. 

In about flfteen minutes, when she was again seated at 
her work, singing gayly to her companions, Alexander 
stepped through the window, alone. 

Where is she? Have I arrived first?" were his first two 
questions. 

He was breathless, as if he had walked fast, and he looked 
a trifle uneasy. 

^^Ah! but where did you put her?" cried saucy Madge 
Severn. 

‘^Oome, Bluebeard, where is Fatima?" teased Marian 
Gordon. 

Dear old Wehr-wolf, you must disgorge Bed Eiding- 
hood!" quoth flaxen-haired Jessie Buccleugh, a connection 
of his own, from Ayr. 

Mrs. Ellathorne came in at this moment, and catching 
sight of Alexander; 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


13 


GlencoraT^ cried she, quickly, meaning to chide; ^^go 
straight up stairs, and lie down. You are making poor 

She ceased abruptly, looking vainly for Glencora, and at 
length turned inquiringly to Alexander: 

Has she come home with you?^^ 

He smiled, flushed a little, stammered, and at last blurted 
out, more to Florice than to anybody else: 

little freak of BonniebeFs. She would make a bet 
with me who would be home first. She came by the walk 
inside the wall — I by the canal. Fve won the bet, and now 
ni go out and meet her.^^ 

Without another word, he strode down the avenue again, 
and struck through the private path inside the thick holly 
hedge, and from thence to his own grounds. 

Foolish again said Mrs. Ellathorne. ^‘1 wonder if 
Jean gave her the cloak!” and she rang hastily for her. 

Another maid appeared. 

Where's Miss Calvert's maid?” 

As I came frae the kitchen, ma'am, I met her cornin' 
in afl the green wi' her arms fu' o' the clean clothes.” 

“ Send her up, Molly.” 

In two minutes Jean stood in the door-way, her face 
crimson, her pale eyes reading the carpet, hot and panting. 

^^What have you been doing with yourself, girl?” de- 
manded the mistress, in surprise. 

I'm ironing.” 

^^When did you return?” 

^^Hot three minutes ago, ma'am.” 

'^Did you find your mistress?” 

^^Yes, ma'am.” 

Where?” 

Standing at Mr. Buccleugh's gate with Mr. Buccleugh.” 

And you gave her her bonnet and cloak?” 

^^I did, ma'am.” 

^^And ” 


14 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


Mrs. Ellathorne made a long pause, during which she 
glanced uneasily down the avenue, and Jean more than 
once wiped her dry lips with her apron, 
wish she would come back.^^ 

As this needed no reply, Jean only courtesied again, waited 
a moment, and with the customary Anything more, 
ma’am?” finally withdrew. 

Another interval, during which the ladies relaxed into 
chatting again, and Florice sang more songs; and then 
Alexander appeared, for the second time, alone. 

After a sweeping glance around the room, his eyes di- 
lated and darkened. He stood confounded. 

The bride-maids dropped their needles. Florice rose, 
with blanched lips and arrested eyes. Mrs. Ellathorne 
swooped forward, and demanded, with quiet authority: 

Alexander, where is Glencora?” 

Truly, I don’t know,” said poor Alexander, helplessly. 

Fve walked the grove, and the lane, and the canal-side, 
and I’ve been over Denburn grounds; and if she hasn’t 
slipped in and gone up to her room unobserved, it’s — it’s 
very strange. Stay — I have it!” he cried, a sudden beam 
dispersing his perplexity. Glencora said something about 
going down through my grounds to see that old nurse of 
hers, and bid her good-by. She talked about it before we 
made that foolish wager. Perhaps she ran off there alone, 
not caring for me to see her parting with the old lady. I’ll 
go there for her.” 

He was going off in a wild hurry this time, but Florice 
touched him on the arm, and, hardly able to articulate, 
begged him to take her with him. Mrs. Ellathorne made 
no objection, though by this time the long twilight had set 
in, and the breeze blew fresher. 

In a few minutes Florice tripped down the shallow stone 
steps, and joined him as he stood impatiently by the win- 
dow, poking his cane into the pink, moaning sea-shells and 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


15 


smooth, tinted shore stones, heaped into the niches of the 
steps; and they hurried down the walk, he treading quietly 
over the crunching gravel, she, in her tremor and vague 
alarm, walking on the flowers, and tripping on the trim 
boxwood, and breaking the tall lilies with her skirts as they 
struck into the path to the thicket. 

Alexander offered her his arm, and noted, with gathering 
gloom, her pallor; but he did not speak, only slashing the 
crisp tops off the flowering fern. 

Florice, my dear little girl,^^ broke from him at length, 
^^you do not fear for Glencora, do you?^^ 

“She glanced earnestly into his grave hut unshadowed 
eyes, and breathed freer. 

^^No, Alexander, if you do not,” she faltered. ^^But 
just tell me this — was she just a little piqued when she 
parted from you?” 

Piqued at me, Florice, do you mean?” he asked, with 
curious incredulity. 

She nodded. 

^^No, indeed! Ha! ha! little sister! thaPs not the way 
to be married to-morrow!” 

Alexander seemed not a bit anxious about the result of 
their search, and he knew just how it was, so why should 
she feel so startled. She would not. Glencora was not a 
fool. 

She’s at nurse’s, all safe. We’ll find her there won’t 
we, Alexander?” said Florice, assuring herself. But she 
well remembered, Alexander only smiled. But when they 
stood before the Widow McGowan’s ivy swathed cottage, 
and she bustled out in her white muslin cap, tied with a 
broad, black ribbon, and came down through her tiny kail- 
yard” with a smiling old face of welcome, it needed not a 
word to tell Florice that she must seek further for her sis- 
ter. Hot so Alexander. He almost lost temper when the 
nurse said no. 


16 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


'^^N’onsense, Mrs. McGowan, she can^’t be anywhere else. 
She must have come while you were out somewhere.” 

‘"That I was na^” cried she; '"my bairn gid me a fare- 
weel this mornin’, and I hae '’na seen her since.” 

Florice pulled Alexander away, and in the gloaming the 
two gazed at each other blankly. 

"Come home quick, Alexander!” whispered Florice, fear- 
fully. " Something has happened. Once — twice — now for 
a run!” 

She broke from him, and ran nimbly back across the 
Denburn grounds, easily outstripping Alexander, who 
paused a moment to ask his servants if any of them had 
seen Miss Calvert.^ 

She was walking down the public lane, panting and trem- 
bling, when he made up to her and put her hand within his 
arm again. 

"Florice, compose yourself. What do you fear? Unac- 
countable, as it seems, she may have gone down to the Long 
Pier to meet the captain. This is the hour he comes over 
to Edinburgh; the Dysart and Kirkaldy ferry-boat is just 
touching the quay now,” looking at his watch, " and they’ll 
both come up together after an hour in Prince’s street. 
Pooh! what could possibly harm Glencora? She’s at home 
now; we’ve missed her.” 

Bnt he was hurrying over the lane with unwonted haste. 

Was Alexander at last alarmed? 


CHAPTER II. 

OSSIAN. 

There was little room to hope for her reappearance in the 
aspect of the house, as they entered through the iron gates, 
and hurried up the leafy avenue. Wild alarms seemed rife 
on this sweet July evening; lights were flashing through 
the great rooms — from the grand drawing-room, where the 
wedding wreaths were arching the banquet-tables, already 
glittering with their load of silver, for the wedding feast — 
to the servants’ dormitories up in the fourth story. Lan- 
terns gleamed through the trees, and sometimes a faint 
voice, sharp with something more than anxiety, cried: 

"Glencora! Glencora!” 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


17 


^^What madness! Where can she have gone exclaimed 
Alexander Buccleugh, stopping in his break-neck pace to 
stare blankly around. I certainly expected to find her 
returned. 

Oh, Alexander!^'’ sobbed Florice, losing all presence of 
mind, and wringing her hands hysterically. ‘^You must 
have an inkling of where she might have gone. AVhat did 
she say when you parted?” 

‘^Hush, Florice, dear — nonsense! Crying already? 
Glennie^’s not a child to turn frantic about, if she doesn^t 
report herself every half-hour. And, I declare,” looking at 
his watch, ^‘^we make as much fuss as if she were gone 
three days, and she has only been missing half an hour.” 

Florice dried her tears. Keally they were making too 
much out of a trifie. Why need Jessie Buccleugh and the 
other girls shout her name through the woods in that un- 
seemly way? — the night before the wedding, too, when all 
should be quiet and proper! They ascended the steps and 
stood in the dark passage, almost laughing at the con- 
fusion. 

'^Little mousie not trapped yet?” cried Alexander, 
cheerily, as Mrs. Ellathorne came down stairs — tall candle 
in hand. 

^^Not she! and I must say, Alexander, that this is a very 
ridiculous — indeed, an unaccountable business. Shea’s not 
in the house — she^s not in the grounds, and as youVe again 
returned without her, she^s not at nurse McGowan’s. Very 
unaccountable, Alexander.” 

Mrs. Ellathorne regarded him with unconcealed reproach. 
Her hand, which held the candlestick, was covered with the 
wax, which, in her rapid movement, must have fallen boil- 
ing on, and been allowed to fall, unheeded. Evidently 
Mrs. Ellathorne was even more terrified than she wished to 
betray. 

I don’t think there’s any real cause for your alarm,” 
said Alexander, in a voice that trembled a little. You 
know the captain has not yet returned; perhaps she went to 
meet him. She said something about it, when we were 
walking in the lane.” 

Nonsense! Glencora would never allow herself to be 
seen publicly just now; besides, she had no companion.” 

^^Oh, I wish guardie was well at home!” sighed Florice, 
going to lean dismally in the still open window. Presently 


18 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


she turned round and looked into the room. wish 

you’d get the girls called in/’ she said; they are making 
an awful disturbance, crying over the place that way. It’s 
clear she’s not in Lady-Bank or they’d have found her.” 

Mrs. Ellathorne stepped to her side with a hand-bell, 
and rang it vigorously. 

Alexander went down the steps, and stood below them on 
the gravel walk. 

I’ll go and meet the girls, and tell them. They might 
think she was found when they hear the bell.” 

Then he went down through the shrubbery toward the 
canal, and was lost to view. Mrs. Ellathorne looked at him 
as he retreated, then took Elorice into the parlor, shut the 
window, drevv the blind, lit the gasilier, every jet, and 
extinguished the much-abused wax candle, evidently with a 
resolution to make the best of things. 

Tripping feet now sounded, and voices, eager and excited, 
questioned and answered, as the great door flew open, and 
two of the bride-maids appeared. 

Found!” exclaimed Marian Gordon. 

Elorice started up. 

‘‘Isn’t she found?” said Marian Gordon. “You rang?’^ 

“No, no, no!” wailed Elorice, with a burst of tears. 
“She’s not found.” 

“Oh, we thought she had come back; we ran home 
when we heard the bell,” said Miss Severn, beginning to 
cry too. 

“ Sit down, both of you,” said Mrs. Ellathorne, snipping 
off her thread with unsteady hand. “I rang to gather you 
home. You and the servants are making the affair tragical 
with your lights and outcries; one would think there had 
been a murder instead of this silly circumstance. Now, 
Madge and Marian, dry your eyes, you foolish bairns, and 
take your work; there’s much to do. Where’s Jessie?” 

“ She saw Alexander going down to the canal, and she 
ran after him, to see if she went that way through the corn, 
for a trick, or anything.” 

“ Humbug! She go for a trick, forsooth! She’s gone to 
meet the captain, I dare say. He wanted her, I know.” 

They waited, and as conjecturing did not seem to improve 
their spirits, they waited in silence. 

Presently Alexander and his cousin, Jessie, came in 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 19 

together. They looked just once round the room, then sat 
down. 

Florice^s feverish eyes fixed first on Jessie's grave face, 
then on Alexander's gloomy, disturbed one. Florice could 
not make a pretense even of working now. She sat with 
locked hands. 

The grit of light wheels sounded on the walk so suddenly, 
and so near, that they all started, as if by a galvanic shock. 

That's the captain!" said Mrs. Eilat home, rising; ^^and 
Glencora, of course!" 

Alexander rushed down the steps. A cab was drawn up 
before the door; two men were standing by the steps, one, 
the captain, counting money; the other, the cabman, hold- 
ing out his hand for the fare. 

^‘You needn't wait at your stand for me to-morrow," 
cried Captain Drummond's cheery voice, as the cabman 
mounted his box. I'll be better employed by this time 
to-morrow evening, I hope, ha, ha! Good-night, cabby." 

‘^Is Miss Calvert not with you?" breathed Alexander's 
cold lips, as the empty carriage wheeled round and disap- 
peared. 

Oh, good-evening to you, Buccleugh. Here with the 
girls? But of course you are, as a bridegroom should be. 
What's that? Glencora not with me? Of course not. Why, 
Buccleugh? Good heavens, Alexander, what's the matter?" 

Captain Drummond stood in the parlor door-way — a hand- 
some, whole-souled sailor of thirty-two — a man, every inch 
of him, you may be sure. His. bright blue eyes traveled 
from face to face in astonishment. Matter enough, he 
could see that. 

Glencora has not been seen since half-past five," said 
Mrs. Ellathorne, at last. 

‘^Disappeared? Impossible!" cried the captain, knitting 
his brows at the mere mention of the information. 

“Not that, captain," spoke up Alexander, a broad glow 
on his face; “not disappeared in the way you take it. No- 
body distrusts my girl. We fear some accident." 

“ What accident?" demanded the captain, bluntly. “ Did 
she leave the house alone?" 

Buccleugh wiped his damp forehead, sighing heavily. 

“No, captain; she left the house with me. I asked her 
out just for a word in the lane; she had not even a bonnet 
on her head. When we came to the wicket-gate of the 


20 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


grove between the lands, she made a wager — ’twas only a 
silly little bet with me — that she^d be home first, as she was 
in a hurry about some sewing, and she objected to my stay- 
ing all the evening alone at Denburn. She was to go one 
way; I, the other. We parted at the little gate, and in five 
minutes I had reached here; but we have not seen her 
since. 

Which way did she go? By the canal ?^^ 

^^No, indeed; she went by the private path just inside 
the hedge, through the high garden, parallel with the lane. 
I walked down by the canal, because it was longer than her 
way. Why, she hadn^’t three minutes walk between her and 
the parlor window — our tryst. 

You say she had no bonnet on. She couldn^t have gone 
to see her nurse 

^‘No, no, guardie; we looked there,'’’ sobbed Florice. 

She had a bonnet on. What am I thinking of?” said 
Alexander. “ I was remembering a little lace handkerchief 
she had tied on her head. As we stood at Denburn gate, 
before we turned to come back to the little wicket, her 
maid came along the lane with a bonnet and cloak for her, 
saying that Mrs. Ellathorne had sent them. Does she 
know nothing about Glencora after I left her?” 

Oh, no. I think I asked her,” said Mrs. Ellathorne. 

Call her up,” said the captain, catching at a straw. 

Jessie Buccleugh was sitting by the bell-rope; she pulled 
the tassel, and presently the cook appeared. 

^^It’s not you we want,” said the captain. Where’s 
Jean Malcolm?” 

^^In the kitchen, sir.” 

The cook looked crusty and vinegary, as only cooks can 
look when things go wrong. 

Send her up, cook, directly,” quoth the captain. 

"" Ay, she may gang and hide awa’, the hussie; wi’ her 
fleerin’ fires scannin’ a’ my cakes, to fiddle wi’ her fur- 
belows!” muttered the cook, disappearing. 

Anon, the lady’s-maid stood at the door. 

“Jean, where did you last see your mistress?” questioned 
Captain Drummond. 

Her face, all flushed and hot, with the veins standing out 
like blue cords on her temples, seemed ready to blanche 
into consternation. 

“ The captain means to ask if you saw Miss Calvert after 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


21 


you fetched her her things/^ interposed Mrs. Ellathorne, 
gently. 

^"Indeed, I did na set een on Miss Glencora since I saw 
Mr. Buccleugh there buckling on her cloak at his ain 
gates. 

Where did you go then?” asked Alexander. 

I cam^ back by the lane, sir;” — she stopped and con- 
sidered — then doon by the servants" way to the back o" 
the house.” 

And where then?” 

I gaed ow"re to the green and gathered up Miss Glen- 
cora"s laces and things, and carried them into the kitchen.” 

And that is all?” 

Jean"s pale eyes dwelt on each face in turn, the longest 
on Alexander Buccleugh"s. 

Ay, that"s a",” she answered, deliberately. 

Go, then!” exclaimed Captain Drummond, rising to 
his feet. 

The girl lingered a moment. 

^‘Please, ma"am,” said she, addressing Mrs. Ellathorne, 

Miss Glencora told me this morn, as I packed her boxes, 
that maybe she would gang to the town to meet Captain 
Drummond in the evening, if she could get through wi" the 
wark, for she wanted him to gang wi" her while she bought 
some things.” 

But you see she didn"t,” cried the captain, impatiently. 
This useless waste of time was irritating him. 

Maybe so, sir; an" maybe no,” murmured the girl, 
dropping a courtesy. She might ha" gane ane gate and 
you the ither. Maybe you missed her on the road.” 

Summon all the servants!” ordered the captain. If 
she went, "twas not alone; she has gone before with the 
gardener or his boy for an escort.” 

They all came in. The captain"s establishment was a 
quiet one, as befitted a retired shipowner. There were the 
cook, a chambermaid, a housemaid, the young women"s 
waiting woman, Jean Malcolm, the gardener and his boy, 
and finally, a confectioner"s assistant, who had come to help 
the cook in that branch of the culinary preparations. They 
all came in; none were missing. 

^^None of you pshaw! I needn"t ask!” began Captain 

Drummond, looking over them. ‘^Fact is. Miss Calvert 


22 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


can^t be found, and I may as well ask if any of you can say 
anything to the point about it?” 

They know nothing!” groaned Alexander, leaning his 
head dejectedly on his hand. ^^We must to work, captain. 
If she went down to Edinburgh, it must have been to visit 
some friends, and between this and half -past five she could 
not easily have returned.” 

Here the gardener stepped a little forward, holding his 
fiat by the brim. 

^^Yer honor,” said he, respectfully, think I wad ha^ 
met our young leddy gif she had gane to the town atween 
half-past five an^ half -past six, for I was a’ that time wheelin’ 
a barrow fu’ o’ pots o’ flowers frae ane o’ the gardeners in 
the botanical gardens — he’s an auld crony o’ my ain — to put 
alang the avenue for the morn; and I’m sure I would ha’ 
met her on the road.” 

Did you see anybody in particular in Gower Lane — any 
carriage, or stranger?” 

‘^Ay!” cried the old man, with sudden intelligence; ^^I 
did meet a carriage gallopin’ doon the lane. There was a 
gentleman on the box by the driver, an’ I caught a sicht o’ 
anither gentleman sittin’ in the coach, wi’ his back to the 
horses.” 

Oh, that was Lord Kilcourcy and his nephew,” inter- 
posed Alexander. They overtook me as I was walking 
from the city, and told me they were driving up the road 
to meet a party six miles on.” 

^'They didna gang then, sir,” observed the gardener; 
^^for I saw the ruts o’ coach wheels turnin’ round just ay ant 
the wicket-gate, atween Lady-Bank an’ Denburn. They 
maun ha’ gane back.” 

‘‘ That I cannot say,” rejoined Alexander. I spoke to 
them just as I was entering the gate, and thought no more 
of them afterward.” 

You may go now,” said Captain Drummond, looking 
impatiently at his watch. 

^ The domestic retired, and he stepped out into the passage, 
picked up his hat, cane, and gloves, and came in again. 

I think, Buccleugh, our best course is to go at once 
to the town, and go round Glencora’s acquaintances, and 
after that 

He paused, and looked round the little company of pale, 
trembling girls, with their anxious lady at their head. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


23 


I don^t think you need fear much/^ he said, tryi" g to 
speak cheerfully. Our willful bride will have taken a 
fancy to some rarity in Prince’s street. We will be back 
soon; so, keep up heart, girlies. Hester!” 

Mrs. Ellathorne follow'ed him to the door. He took her 
hand, and spoke gravely. He whispered, but Florice’s 
eager ears drank in the whisper: 

Sister, don’t be alarmed if some men come here by and 
by, to — to drag the canal! and don’t let the girls know.” 

He hastened after Buccleugh, who, with headlong speed, 
was already half way down to the gates. He went so fast 
that he never heard Jessie Buccleugh’s outcry as the bride’s 
sister fell fainting to the floor. 

It was chill, and almost dark now, this calm summer 
evening, as the two gentlemen sped down the avenue into 
Gower Lane. 

I’ll tell you what, Drummond,” exclaimed Alexander, 
breaking in on rather a dread silence each had shrunk from 
encroaching upon; we’ll just step over to Denburn and 
get out my mare and traps. If speed will avail anything, 
Houri is the one to spring to it.” 

^‘Agreed!” quoth the captain. 

So they hurried up the lane, instead of down, and passed 
through the Denburn gates. 

And so they missed seeing a sight, or rather hearing a 
marvel — to see, there was little. First a clink, clink, clink, 
adown the silent lane, coming closer; then, as the sound 
became distinct, mingled with it a regular snort and a 
respiring pant; then a light, bounding tread; then, the eyes 
assisting the ears, a little cloud of dust would have loomed, 
rolling along the middle of the road; then two red eyes; and 
then, just as the iron gate was reached, two white paws 
might be discerned tearing beneath the iron bars in eager 
hurry; and at last, with a louder snort, the tawny figure 
sprang aside to a gap in the holly hedge best known to dog- 
hood, wriggled through, and with long leaps sprang up to 
Lady-Bank. 

Well, t’was nothing but Glencora’s deer-hound, Ossian, 
wet, weary, and savage from some cause only apparent to 
himself, coursing home to his kennel. 


24 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE EMPTY BEIDAL DAY. 

Rolling swiftly over the quiet lane, the fresh night air 
meeting them with rushing force in their rapid transit, the 
captain and Alexander proceeded on their anxious search. 
There was little said on either side after their first eager 
deliberation of their plan of inquiry. There was nothing 
could be said that would not end in Glencora, and both 
were too wise to give their fears substance by expressing 
them. 

So they gravely settled the route they meant to take, try- 
ing hard to speak cheerfully; and then Alexander devoted 
himself to his mettlesome mare, the captain to his pipe, and 
his sharp scrutiny of each twilight shrouded figure they en- 
countered. 

Crossing Fountain Bridge, they drew up at a small house 
occupied by one of the bargemen, known to Captain Drum- 
mond. The captain sprang out and found the man, brought 
him to Alexander, and they each questioned him. 

Have you been on duty to-day?” inquired the captain. 

The man shook his head, and explained that he had been 
on special duty the night before, and had required the day 
to rest, and that his son had taken his place. 

“Ah! Then you’ve been asleep; you did not observe 
any of the boats which passed this evening?” broke in Alex- 
ander. 

The bargeman further explained that ever since five 
o’clock he had been on the lookout for his son’s return, 
loitering most of the time on the bridge. 

“ Then you’ll be able to remember whether any lady like 
Miss Calvert passed you on either freight or passenger boat, 
or over the bridge, between a quarter past five and this 
time.” 

“ Sorrow ae body, man, woman, or wean, hae I seen on 
the boats sin’ the gloamin’ forby thae Territorial school 
bairns comin home frae an excusion.” 

The gentlemen consulted in broken whispers, each face 
averted, till the captain broke out with, “Confound it, man. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


25 


she^s either dead or alive; we must raise heaven and earth 
to find which!” 

He walked up to the bargeman, and in a few words re- 
lated the lady^s disappearance, and enjoined him to watch 
the canal, up by the first lock, when the next boat came 
down to Edinburgh, and to look well to the water; and 
finally, with a husky throat and a glance of anguish at the 
stony face of the bridegroom, he said: 

leave my orders with you, to dispatch some of the 
bargemen to — well, to drag the canal between this and Mr. 
Buccleugh^s place, in the course of the night, unless I see 
you again, and countermand the orders. A tall girl, you 
know, a young thing, with black hair, and a gray cloak, 
and bonnet — was it Buccleugh? Yes, that^s her descrip- 
tion.” 

Without another word he sprang into the gig, and Alex- 
ander drove swiftly over Fountain Bridge, gazing with fasci- 
nated eye into the gurgling abyss as they recrossed it. They 
dashed over the resonant causeway first, to Portland street, 
to the railway station, where, after making fruitless in- 
quiries, they left a description of the lost one with the sta- 
tion master, and then drove to the fashionable quarters of 
the city where Glencora was in the habit of visiting. Com- 
posing their demeanor to correspond with that of gentlemen 
at ease, on a careless matter of business, they paused before 
the tall mansion of one of her intimates, opposite the Queen’s 
Crescent Gardens, and rang the bell. A groom answering 
the summons. Captain Drummond sent in his card and 
compliments to the lady of the house, declining to enter, 
and begging to know whether Miss Calvert was with her. 
The obsequious attendant faithfully delivering the message, 
the lady came cordially out herself, and, without circumlo- 
cution, told him that she had not seen either of the young 
ladies for some days. 

It is Miss Florice you inquire for?” said she, smiling 
at the captain’s face of gloom, which the honest fellow for- 
got to compose. 

^^ISTo, no; she’s safe enough, Mrs. Gillespie, but Glen- 
cora” — he stopped to master his increasing agitation — the 
fact is, she’s too late in town, considering what she means 
to do to-morrow. Good-night, madam — good-night!” and 
he silently took his seat again, and Alexander lashed the 
mare into a frenzy of speed. This is but a sample of how 


26 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


they fared in this branch of their search. They called on 
the girhs acquaintances, till it was too late to call without 
startling their friends. 

Then, at twelve of the night, when the chimings of a 
dozen bells were multiplying — when Alexander’s wedding- 
day had slipped into existence at last — then the guardian 
and the bridegroom sat in the gig before the huge building, 
hotly disputing. 

‘‘I tell you, Buccleugh, this won’t do. It has gone be- 
yond us, and we are only wasting time; we are justified in 
calling in proper aid. And who is better able to assist in 
our search than the director of the detective force?” cried 
the hot-headed sailor. 

^^No, no, Drummond, my friend, would you have my 
girl’s name in the public mouth, when she may even now be 
safely asleep in her holy innocence, unconscious of the anx- 
iety she has caused us? Have patience, sir, and see what 
we can do for ourselves, before we set the detectives on her 
track, as if she were a felon.” 

^^Hold there!” ejaculated the captain; not on Aer track. 
Heaven forbid! but on theirs who have murdered or stolen 
the lassie.” 

Oh, think of it, Drummond — this day was to have 
made her my wife!” groaned Alexander, in the bitterness 
of his soul. 

The captain’s big heart swelled nearly to bursting, and he 
laid his friendly hand heavily on Alexander’s shoulder to 
comfort him. 

^‘^Oh, Drummond! go — go do what you like — anything 
to recover her! Better that than further risk.” 

Captain Drummond descended once more, and entered 
the office of the chief of police. Before he faced the an- 
guished man again, he had put the whole matter into the 
hands of that superior power — her name, her age, her ap- 
pearance — all, as if she had been a straying apprentice, or 
the heroine of a clandestine elopement — she, the dainty lady 
of pure breeding. Captain Drummond’s pride of exclusive- 
ness, and his gentleman’s care of all that fences woman from 
publicity, were thrown to the winds. 

With stern faces the two men at length turned homeward, 
and as they passed Fountain Bridge, the captain did not 
stop to revoke his order. 

At Lady-Bank the night had crawled on fearfully enough. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


27 


The girls never thought of retiring. Even Mrs. Ellathorne, 
methodical as she was, could not ignore the dread they all 
sighed under, though she still toiled with assiduity in the 
preparations for Glencora’s wedding-day. She strove to 
keep her little bevy of white-faced myrmidons employed, 
too; but could not chide them, however often the work was 
dashed down, and the workers out at the door listening in 
the night to the grit of feet upon the gravel, the stifled 
voices on the canal-side. 

Once more the servants had been sent out with lanterns 
to search the grounds, the high garden, behind every 
shrub or tree in the rustic arbor, where she might have 
fallen asleep or fainted; every bracken-bed in the whisper- 
ing grove had been felt and turned over, and, most im- 
portant of all, the bank of the canal, among the standing 
corn. They flung their jackets off, and one holding aloft 
the light, the other two crept along the water-mark, shak- 
ing the petal-like snow off the brambles, bending the evil 
hemlock- weed over its poisonous roots; feeling the grassy 
bank, all daisy-starred and dewy, with hands that trembled 
to clutch something of hers by which to trace her; 
scaring the water-mole from his hole in the mud, the frog 
from his slimy stone. They flung the rays of their lantern 
far across the canal, and up and down its darksome wind- 
ing, and started at the ripple-ripple they heard, as the rats 
plunged in and cleft the sluggish waters for the opposite 
bank. And they muttered together, as, at last, they stood 
on the path, eying the canal: 

Was it a white gown she had on?^^ 

Na, na; it^s no^ her wears the white — it^s Miss Florice. 
I canna mind what Jean said.^^ 

^^Jean said, a black silk gown wi^ green ribbons, and 
weel she kens, for she dresses the young Teddies.” 

And at last they strode back to the house, peering 
through the white columns of the standing corn on their 
way. And the gardener^s boy stooped down and put his 
hand into the kennel where Glencora^s deerhound lay, and, 
as he felt its smooth coat and shivering sides, he raised a 
cry, and the other men came back with the light. 

There crouched Ossian, licking his wet paws and heaving 
long sighs. Next minute they had him in the kitchen, and 
Mrs. EUathorhe called down. She came in haste, with her 


28 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


maidens at her back; and the group of servants drew hack, 
leaving the dog exposed in the midst. 

Mrs. Ellathorne gazed at him in inquiring silence; but 
Plorice cried out — ran forward to him, and, throwing her- 
self on the stone flags, took him in her arms and kissed 
him, while he, whimperingly, tried to lick her face and 
hands. 

‘^Oh, you poor old fellow sobbed Elorice, hugging 
him. Where have you been swimming? Oh, doggie! 
whereas Glencora? Why did you leave her? You are the 
only breathing creature who saw her go — you only know 
where she is!'’^ 

Hush, my child breathed her guardian^s sister; 

there^s One in heaven knows well where Glencora is, and 
will keep her safe enough, Ifll warrant. Is Ossian wet?” 

The women gathered round Elorice as she wept over her 
sister^s hound, and it needed little wit to discover his silver 
chain broken — his silver collar twisted at the throat, as if 
by a brutal hand — brown weed on his silver chain, and dust 
on his clotted ears. It was a dreadful discovery, and sug- 
gested the canal again; and, at Mrs. Ellathorne^s frantic 
commands, they were coaxing the hound to pick up the 
trail at the back door, when the captain and Alexander 
drove round the house and saw them. 

The ladies huddled together in the door- way, the servants 
in the lobby' asked no questions of them; their faces spoke 
of utter failure. Captain Drummond took a torch from a 
bystander, and, kneeling down, examined the weary Ossian, 
while Buccleugh stood by, with weary eyes fixed upon him; 
and presently the captain touched the still wet chain with 
his tongue, picked a brown fiber off the collar, and went 
into the house. 

Don’t bother the dog about the canal — he hasn’t been 
there,” cried he, over his shoulder, to the men. Come 
here, Hester — come, Buccleugh — girls, where are you?” 

He led the way to the deserted parlor. 

There’s been worse than an accident happened, I fear,” 
muttered he, closing the door. That dog has been swim- 
ming for his life — not in the canal, but in the sea. The 
water on him is sea-brine, the weeds on him are sea-grass. 
He’s followed them a pretty distance before they threw him 
in the tide. Who saw this dog with — with her?” 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


29 


saw him follow Malcolm when she carried out the 
cloak,” whispered Florice, with white lips. 

I saw him with her when she came to us at the gate,” 
faltered Alexander. Glencora patted him when he leaped 
at her hands, and then Malcolm scolded him, and went 
back along the lane, dragging him by the chain. 

And where did she leave him?” 

Nobody knew. 

For the fourth time the ladyVmaid was summoned. 

No longer hot and angry, but pale as the palest there, she 
came. 

Why did you order the dog home when he followed you 
with the bonnet and cloak?” demanded the captain. 

She seemed to shrink within herself under the steady 
scrutiny of his keen blue eyes. 

‘^Because I thought the twa young leddies liked him 
chained to the kennel when they gayed amang their flowers,” 
she replied, with an appealing glance at Florice. 

^^ThaFstrue, guardie,” said Florice, reassuringly. ^MYe 
have said so more than once.” 

And then Ossie,” resumed the girl, barked at me and 
whined till I lat him rin, and he scoured awa to Miss Glen- 
cora.” 

^^Not while she was with me, Malcolm,” breathed through 
Alexanders cold lips. 

She courtesied and maintained silence, until they told her 
to withdraw. 

No, no, no, the clew was not to be in their hands yet. 

As Alexander paced the apartment with contracted brows, 
his glance caught a bluish gleam from something on a 
chair by the window, and bending to look, he saw the casket 
he had brought for Glencora lying still open, the pearl 
bracelets shimmering with orient luster. 

Standing with them in his shaking hand, his set face 
melted into tenderness, then blanched with direst misery; 
and for the first time his courage failed him, and he gave 
way. 

Throwing himself on a chair, he buried his face in his 
hands, still clutching the bridal ornaments, and groaned 
aloud in an abandonment of grief. Florice^s wistful eyes, 
which followed all his movements with yearning sympathy, 
filled with hot tears at this, and she went over and sat down 
beside him, leaning her little head against his arm, and 


30 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


seeking, like some faithful dumb animal, to soothe him by 
her silent caressing. The other girls gave each other an 
expressive glance, and hurried from the room, to burst into 
hysterical grief when out of hearing. 

Oh, girls wailed Jessie, ‘^if this goes on much longer 
he’ll lose his reason. You don’t know Alexander as I do. 
He just adored Glennie Calvert, though he is so strong in 
heart and mind. He’s not easily moved, and the case must 
be terrible when even he at last is daunted.” 

^^Kestrain yourselves, Marian and Jessie,” pleaded Madge 
Severn, crying harder than any of them. We must not 
be useless in this woeful house. Let us see what we can do 
to lighten the burden.” 

To see his proud head on the table, and his fingers 
clenched in his bonnie hair!” moaned Jessie again. 

And Florice, the poor young thing, not seventeen, try- 
ing to comfort him,” responded Marian, her arms wrapped 
round the other two. 

Alas I alas! what a bridal !” exclaimed Madge, looking 
round the exquisitely arranged tables. Let us bring in 
something to the captain and Mr. Buccleugh. Do you 
mind, girls, that neither have broken bread since luncheon? 
Haste! they’re fainting with neglect, and not only with de- 
spair!” 

She hastily arranged some refreshments on a server, and 
carried it in herself. Marian and Jessie quickly^followed, 
with wine and cold fowl from the cook’s pantry. They 
placed them on the table, and rested not till the captain 
had seated himself before the first mouthful he had tasted 
for many hours, poor fellow. And presently - Alexander 
raised his face, pale and composed again, and looking at the 
gentle trio, smiled gratefully, and suffered himself to be 
placed at the tray. 

They quietly listened to the captain’s brief relation of the 
night’s search, holding each a cold hand to Florice’s, and, 
by their hopeful looks, striving to strengthen her; submit- 
ting cheerfully to Mrs. Ellathorne’s next request, which 
was prompted by some whispered injunction from her 
brother, that they would retire to their roems and take some 
rest. 

Yet they gave way to blinding tears once more, as, 
wrapped in each other’s arms, they knelt at a signal from 
Mrs. Ellathorne, and the captain, with reverential fervor. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


31 


offered a brief prayer for guidance in their sore affliction, 
and for grace to bear, if hope were vain. 

Poor Alexander, who was not used to the captain’s sim- 
ple worship, being, as he once gayly told Glencora, a sort 
of heathen, in his ignorance of family routine, knelt hum- 
bly with the girls, and, pressing his hands hard on his 
brow, seemed to glean firmness from the high source 
invoked by his friends. Then the bride-maids went their 
way, and bolting doors and muffling windows sought to 
shut out the coarse voices and heavy steps of the bargemen 
with their drags. 

The sweet dawn was creeping into Edinburgh over the 
crouching hills, and the western wind brought with it 
balmy scents of the golden gorse and sunny heather, when 
Alexander and Captain Drummond went down to the canal 
to their horrifying task. 

A dreary dawning it was, indeed, to them, and their best 
cheer was the failure of every attempt to bring up the fair 
body of the lost lady. Still they toiled at their gloomy 
work, till the men on the early barges shouted for the way, 
and the stout boat-horses, trotting on the other side, trod 
down their ghastly implements — their ropes and hooks and 
stretcher — and with freer breathing they went back to 
slumbering Lady-Bank. 

No rest for the two gentlemen, however, half-oomforted 
by their ill success in the dragging of the canal; they both 
remembered how Ossian had proved to them the possibility 
of a still more startling discovery. 

They resolved, after two hours’ rest, which was insisted 
on by the prudent Mrs. Ellathorne, to return to the city 
and pursue their search with this new clew in their .hands. 
So the luckless bridegroom threw himself upon a couch, in 
the house of his lost Glencora, and slumber, heavy and 
torpid, stole the hours of this, his wedding-day, so long an- 
ticipated — so ardently desired. 

At nine o’clock a fresh horse from Alexander’^Buccleugh’s 
stable was sent for, and the two gentlemen, equipped and 
impatient, entered the sunny parlor to see the ladies. 

Poor things! Heavy-eyed and wan enough they looked 
after their night of tears and suspense. All the bright 
gleam was gone from Marian Gordon’s glancing eyes; 
Madge w^t and paled with every thought. 

Jessie Buccleugh leaned her fiaxen head against the 


32 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


window-pane and looked at vacancy with her quiet, wistful 
eyes; and poor, stricken Florice had not appeared at all. 

Mrs. Ellathorne, quiet, rigid, and alert, sat behind a 
small breakfast-table, ready to seize upon the gentlemen 
when they should appear. 

And when they did enter, it was the signal for a general 
but stifled outburst from the bride-maids. Poor Madge 
dashed down the pen with which she was endeavoring to 
write many little notes to the wedding guests, whose pres- 
ence was not now desired, and the envelopes which Marian 
was addressing became suddenly blistered with a shower of 
hot tears. 

Yet they heroically commanded their own sorrow so 
much, and clustered round him with tender faces and 
murmured words of loving sympathy. 

Sit here, Alexander, said Jessie Buccleugh, coming 
from the window with her pale face, and leading him to a 
couch where the subdued light should not reveal the proud 
hearths anguish. 

Then she brought him food and sat beside him, talking 
in her indistinct tones, -v^Ch made him stoop his head 
involuntarily to hear, and he ate mechanically as he did so. 
As for poor, big-hearted Captain Drummond, he gulped 
his breakfast scalding hot, and glowered savagely into his 
cup, to prevent his swelling soul from bursting, whenever 
he looked at the quiet maidens in their sweet and gentle 
ministry. 

Where’s Florice?” he blurted at last, as he fiercely tore 
on his gloves. 

She’s in — she’s in Clencora’s dressing-room,” answered 
Mrs. Ellathorne, with a tremulous voice. She’s moan- 
ing bitterly, poor child.” 

Buccleugh, there’s the gig — get in, and I’ll be after 
you,” said the captain, slouching his hat down over his 
brows. 

He went up the flight of stairs, and they heard him 
knock at the dressing-room door. In two or three minutes 
he came down again and went straight out to the carriage. 
His face was purple as he got in beside Mr. Buccleugh, and 
his voice quite indistinct as he lifted Ossian after him into 
the gig, and held him between his knees. 

‘'‘'We sha’n’t he back, Hester, before night,” said the 
captain, as they drove off; '‘''good-by.” 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


3o 


They drove and they walked; they retraced and twisted: 
they covered poor Ossian^s head until he nearly bit; and 
they muddled poor Ossian^s brains until Ossian did not 
know who he was, why he was, or where he was. Then 
they drove the three miles down to Portobello, and set him 
on the sands, and retired, after throwing him one of Glen- 
corahs little gloves for company. 

Ossian looked about, ran hither and thither, shook him- 
self, and capered ; then discovered that he was alone, 
howled dismally, returned to the glove, fondled it, picked 
it u;^ and finally started off at a quick gallop along the road 
for Edinburgh. 

Hopefully the two watchers turned their horses^ heads 
and sped after him. But, after dashing at a break-neck 
pace by the shortest possible cut, they discovered he was 
only leading them home; so they called him back, captured 
him — not much to his liking this time — and trotted off to 
Granton Pier. 

Perhaps some steamer lying there may have Buc- 

cleugh, this is the morning that one of the New York 
steamships leave. If there was an elopement, or anything 
of that kind 

The captain stopped with a jerk, for Alexander's hand 
fell like a vise upon his arm, and his face was blanched with 
a blaze of passion, which flashed from, his eyes, and left his 
cheeks at white heat. 

^‘Drummond, never the like again!” he ejacu- 

lated, sternly. My love was pure, and true, and constant. 
I could trust Glencora with my honor, and her life will go 
before it is betrayed. If we are going to Granton Pier to 
look for the proofs of an elopement, we go not there.” 

A gleam of actual pleasure illuminated the honest cap- 
tain^s eyes at the fiery outburst. He silently squeezed his 
friend^s hand with an iron grip, and did not even ejaculate 
a word, when Buccleugh impetuously wheeled round his 
horse, and sped down the street again. 

Ifil tell you what,” said Alexander, in a few minutes, 
in his usual calm tones, ^‘I have just been thinking — would 
it not be possible that she went down to meet you on Long 
Pier, on your arrival from Dysart, and, perhaps, missing 
you, as Malcolm said, have gone over in the next boat, 
hoping to see you there? Or, stay — may she not have gone. 


34 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


for some reason, to see her friend, Lina Craig, who, you 
know, is dangerously ill 

"'Perhaps, perhaps,'' said the captain, dubiously. "We 
can try Ossian." 

They trotted gingerly out to the very end of Long Pier, 
and once more liberated the dog; and now, indeed, his 
movements invited speculation. 

At first he erected himself, and looked around; then, 
with a sudden wild skurrying to and fro, he picked up some 
trail — a very short one, it seemed, for he ran round and 
round, never diverging into a wider circle, but always step- 
ping close to the edge of the pier and looking down into the 
surging water. And while poor Buccleugh and Drummond 
shudderingly approached, he began to whimper and tremble, 
and at last he lifted his head and gazed out upon the sea, 
with a long, melancholy hpwl. 

"Oh, what — what does this mean?" cried Alexander, 
with wild agitation. "Oh, for a witness — one witness 
beside this dumb hound!" 

"All this may be proving the truth of your suggestion 
about Dysart," said Drutnmond, more calmly. "Let us 
give some directions, and ask some questions here, and go 
over in the next boat." 

Which was done. The drags were brought, and the cus- 
tomary crowd gathered to enjoy a spectacle. All the 
questioning was fruitless, and Captain Drummond and 
Alexander Buccleugh escaped to the bonnie shores of Fife, 
leaving Edinburgh and its horrors behind them; and meet- 
ing — as doggie well knew, with his drooping head and 
dragging, reluctant steps — only utter disappointment in 
their visit to Lina Craig. 

Why track them in all their vain plans, and their disap- 
pointments, through the long, wretched wedding-day? 

They returned from Dysart and Kirkaldy, and met no 
livid corpse on the Long Pier, as they feared, and drove to 
Leith and back again, and paid a visit to the Chief Director 
of Police, who managed to comfort them a little by his 
prophecy of his myrmidons' ultimate success, and read the % 
catalogue of all the passenger ships outward bound, and the 
railway lists, and the lists of English, French, Irish, Conti- 
nental, American, Canadian, and Nova Scotian ships, 
steamboats, and transports. And then the sun was low, and 
their horses were exhausted, and their own dauntless spirits 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


35 


almost conquered; so Mr. Spires, the Chief of Police, told 
them to go nome, and he would do the rest. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE LADY OF STRATHMORE. 

Precisely ten days prior to the opening of this chronicle, 
two young men were pacing back and forth in front of a 
small inn, in a quiet, antiquated town in Elgin. Blithe, 
light-hearted young fellows enough they were, with their 
deer hounds hanging of their heads and stretching of their 
streaming tongues while they stalked behind their masters, 
whose careless negligence and general air of good nature 
contrasted pleasantly with the stolid faces of the Elgin 
ladies who stared at them. It was easy to see that those 
young gentlemon were travelers, summer tourists, who 
probably had never before been beyond the Grampian hills, 
who were exploring the savage region of the North partly 
for amusement, partly to obtain one long, ecstatic ^‘breath- 
er among the grand highland mountains and peat moors. 
Apparently they had achieved their object, for their good- 
looking faces were embrowned, their luxuriant beards 
seemed to have weathered many a harsh blast among the 
heather, their light gray traveling suits had lost much of 
the pristine freshness that had graced them perhaps four 
weeks ago, and the rifles, shot-pouches, fishing-tackle, etc., 
thrown in the stable yard, had a well-worn look, as if hard 
usage, and much of it, had been their lot. 

“Well, Phil, Pm no philosopher,^'* cried the younger 
man of the two, shaking his leg energetically with his cane 
as he walked, “and Pm no Don Quixote, but, honestly and 
verily, a highland life is the life for me. I declare I would 
scarcely care if I never saw Auld Reekie again.” 

“ No philosopher? Ha! ha! ha! You doiiT need tore- 
mind me of that, Moray. I never accused you of aping 
Diogenes. But, do you actually assert that already Edin- 
burgh has lost all its interest for you?” asked the elder 
gentleman, with a quizzical glance at the bright, careless 
face of his comrade. 

“Humph! no,” admitted Moray, with a bothered look. 


36 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Of course I"m still clannish enough, spite of all my par- 
oxysms of admiration over these glorious Northern hills, to 
prefer my own town to any of them. ^ There is nae hoose 
like my ain hoose," well, I wot. But then, you see, Phil, I 
haven't had your advantages. I"ve always been the scape- 
grace and ne"er-do-weel of our family, ranging about from 
country to country, with no settled preference for thing, 
place, or body ; while you, my steady elder brother, have 
staid quietly at home in Auld Keekie, have married your 
bonnie Lammermoor lassie, have taken the goods the gods 
provided, and are happy. Phil, you are a good fellow, and 
have been more than a brother to me ; and in memory of 
the legion of scrapes you have in times past rescued me 
from, Pll stick to you like a burr awhile yet."" 

The other laughed cheerily. 

Bide a wee, Moray, my boy!"" cried he. Stop till you 
meet some other bonnie Lammermoor lassie, whose modest 
grace shall achieve what I never can achieve, the task of 
inducing my wild brother to settle down on his money, in 
the other half of Phil Hazeldean"s double house ; and then, 
a fig for ancient Europe, highland hills, or everlasting ocean I 
You"ll narrow your life, too, stare no longer at a blinding 
mirage that"s lifted in air, but keep glad eyes on a heaven 
by your own fireside ; and then you, too, will be happy."" 

Moray did not immediately answer; he pulled round one 
of the great hounds, and twisted his ears, with a very 
gloomy face. 

‘‘1 believe you"re right, Phil,"" said he, at last; ^^and I 
suppose I could profit by your advice, if I did not just meet 
her again as soon as I go back to Edinburgh. She"ll drive 
out of my head all the Leamies and J essies Pve seen among 
the highland heather, just as she drove out of my poor, 
stupid pate all the Italian signorinas, the German fraulinas, 
and the French demoiselles last winter. Heighho! I wdsh 
I were married — and I"ll try!"" 

And Moray Hazeldean lifted his shepherd tartan cap to 
toss back his nut-brown locks. 

^ Bravo, my lad !"" cried Phii"s breezy voice, as he dealt 
him a hearty slap on the back. We"ll see you yet "" 

The rest was lost in a sudden and tumultuous baying 
of the hounds, as a traveling carriage rattled through the 
narrow, irregular street, and drew up close beside them. 

Foam-fiecked were the two handsome horses, and dimmed 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


37 


was the polish of the carriage panels; the fierce armorial 
bearings were nearly obliterated beneath a layer of thick 
red dust, that was powdered over every part of the sump- 
tuous equipage during a long and rapid drive on the post- 
roads. The coachman descended from his box and opened 
the carriage door, and two persons emerged from its depths; 
the first, a tall, stately old man; the second, a radiant 
young lady, who accepted the proffered arm of her com- 
panion with a certain air of grand triumph, and whose 
glowing face turned on the young tourists with the air of a 
duchess, ere she vanished in the quaint little inn. 

Come from Kieth, my man?^^ inquired Philip Hazel- 
dean, lighting his cigar in the shelter behind the carriage. 

‘^Na, na, sir,^^ grumbled the old coachman; ^^weVe rid- 
den a^ the way frae Aberdeen, an^ wow, but it^s a weary 
fipgate!^^ 

Moray now came from his scrutiny of the arms on the 
panel, and joined his brother. 

‘‘Some Highland chief, or laird, I think,^^ he whispered; 
“ I canT make out more on the panel than something like 
a griffin with a chain in his mouth, and a horrible Gaelic 
inscription. Who are they?^^ 

“ My dear brother, I donT know or care. IPs half-past 
four, and I want my dinner. LePs go in and remind mine 
host. Age before honesty wonT do this time; we came 
first; and intend to be served first. 

“She’s pretty, isn’t she, Phil? What a tall, striking 
figure!” 

“ Pshaw! a supercilious face it had, as if it was saying, 

‘ Do you observe my grandeur?’ ” 

PWell, perhaps — but I like hauteur, zxA she’s evidently 
noble. I wish I knew her name.” 

Philip whistled “ Jock o’ Hazeldean,” his favorite tune, 
and looked down the odd little street of quaint Forres, with 
its lovely wild scenery around. 

“Did you ever see such an old woman?” he exclaimed 
presently, as a figure, bent almost double, and leaning on a 
stout staff, approached slowly, gazing at the carriage with 
eyes strangely black and brilliant. She came nearer, 
stopped beside the carriage, dropped on her knees, and 
kissed the dusty panel whereon was blazoned the armorial 
design; then crept down the street again, murmuring iiiun- 
intelligble Gaelic. The two loungers watched her as she 


38 


TEE BRIDE ELECT, 


slowly retraced her steps to a small cottage where a Forres 
wife was spinning by the open door. 

^^By Jove!’^ ejaculated Moray, with enthusiasm, ^^this 
Highland loyalty and simple worship is as strong in this 
nineteenth century as in the days of Bruce and Wallace. I 
suppose that old woman 

Never mind, Moray, Fm going in. The coach comes 
six o’clock, and my appetite is at least an hour 

! so is mine,” rejoined Moray. So they tossed 
away their cigars, and turned into the ^‘Forres Stag Inn.” 

To their surprise they found the illustrious lady traveler 
sitting alone by the window, and regarding the carriage, to 
which fresh horses from the ^"Forres Stag Inn” stales 
were being attached. Her brown traveling robes had not 
been removed, and her little straw bonnet and long vail 
were lying on a chair near her. There was the same radiant 
triumph, ill-repressed, in her fine face which they had before 
remarked, and she turned quickly as the door opened, with 
a joyous smile, which, however, faded when her glance en- 
countered strangers. 

Oh, I beg pardon, madam,” said Philip Hazeldean, es- 
saying to withdraw; we were not told that this room was 
occupied. Excuse the intrusion.” 

No, don’t go away, sir,” replied she, with dignified po- 
liteness. /‘I have no doubt you had engaged the room be- 
fore I arrived; don’t make me aware of my intrusion by 
leaving me to enjoy the wretched little place alone*” 

She glanced around the dwarfed walls and dingy chintz 
curtains with a little shrug of contempt, and looked out 
again at her well-appointed carriage. 

^ With thanks the Edinburgh gentleman accepted her civ- 
ility. Philip picked up a book from the table, and, yawn- 
ing, turned the leaves. Moray took a chair not far from 
the young aristocrat, and entered into conversation with 
her. 

“ It is not often one looks on a more enchanting scene,” 
murmured Moray, following her glance out of the narrow 
window. 

She lifted her eyes from her carriage and rested them 
a moment on the distant hills, then they wandered over 
the yellow corn-fields, the whin bushes shaking their 
golden bloom, the funereal fir, and the stout larch thickets. 


along at i 
strong.” 
Faith 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 89 

and lastly on the hale bronzed face of the tourist at her 
side. 

Beautiful said she, with shining eyes. Yet my do- 
main, they tell me, is richer far. You love enchanting 
scenes, then?'’^ 

have hitherto paid the devotion of a life-time to 
them,^^ returned Moray, but seldom have I enjoyed their 
beauty with such sweet concomitants,^^ with great gallantry. 

She did not notice his gallantry, did not answer his en- 
thusiasm, her dark face was radiant in its absorbed exulta- 
tion. 

If you stay any time in Forres, resumed Moray, de- 
termined to make her speak to him, you should visit the 
obelisk erected near here, ^ King Swino^s Stone,"" some say 
representing the murder of Macdutf. You remember, per- 
haps, how Shakespeare has celebrated that hill over there — 
the Knock of Alves in ^ Macbeth,^ where the weird sisters 
prophesied his future greatness. 

“ ‘How far is it called to Forres? What are these, 

So withered and so wild in their attire, 

That look not like the inhabitants of earth, 

And yet are on it !’ 

You have heard the lines ? If you had been at that 
window an hour ago, you would have been forcibly reminded 
of them; for I saw a woman, so old that she scarce could 
walk, creep up to your carriage, kneel, and kiss with fierce 
devotion the arms on the panel. 

The lady started, and looked curiously down the street; 
her interest was at last aroused. 

An old woman, sir? I am surprised. This Forres does 
not belong to the lands of Strathmore. I know of none of 
my people here.^^ 

Moray crimsoned. He felt his presumption in so per- 
sistently addressing a lady whose high rank was, at last, 
avowed. 

Pardon me,” murmured he, confused. ^^I had no idea 
that you were a scion of that noble house. I confess my 
presumption in addressing you so freely.” 

Pshaw! nonsense!” cried she, laughing, and drawing 
her pretty form to its height. I neither meant to pre- 
serve an incognito y nor to avow my station; still, as you are 
so good as to try to amuse a strangeFs passing hour of ennuiy 


40 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


you deserve a fuller knowledge of your protegee (though I 
must confess I trespass on my uncle^s command in speaking 
to strangers.) Therefore behold before you Kilmeny Strath- 
more, Lady of Strathmore, who, having just obtained the 
title through a succession of curious circumstances, is now 
on her way to the Highland estate, to take possession of the 
fairest domain in broad Scotland.'’^ 

With a blush, and a bow, and a bland pride. Lady Strath- 
more extended her hand to Moray Hazeldean, who gravely 
pressed it in his, and gravely gave his own name in return. 

‘‘Then you have never seen your inheritance as yet!^^ 
asked he, his eyes opened to her no longer mysterious exul- 
tation. 

“Not yet, Mr. Hazeldean; nor did I expect to see it, had 
not my cousin 

She paused, bit her lip, and changed the subject. 

“ I am not accustomed to being treated as of much im- 
portance,^^ she said, artlessly. “ I have moved, hitherto, in 
a very moderate sphere, and my exaltation is delightful to 
me; it satisfies a fierce ambition I have always been a victim 
of ; it lifts me beyond old, petty trials, paltry pleasures, and 
— humble loves. 

Again she paused, a hard, relentless expression crossed 
her face with sinister force, the ungloved fingers in her lap 
closed tightly on each other. 

Moray silently regarded her; truth to say, he began not 
to admire Lady Kilmeny, of Strathmore, so much. 

Here Philip, who had for some time been looking at her 
over the top of his book, remarked, respectfully: 

“No doubt your elevation will have left some mourners 
in your old station, my lady. How did your family like 
losing you T’ 

She frowned. At first she did not seem inclined to an- 
swer; then, changing her mind, looked around at him 
serenely: 

“ Oh, there was no one could truly claim me or my duty, 
but an aged grandfather and half-deaf grandmother. I 
had always lived with them in Aberdeen, my birthplace, 
since my father died, many years ago. They are my 
mother's parents, not my father’s. He was a colonel, and 
next of kin to William, Lord of Strathmore, whose title I 
now bear. The uncle now conveying me to Strathmore is 
the youngest brother of the three, and heir after me, if I 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


41 


do not — well, if I don^t marry. Of course, my old con- 
nections rejoiced with me in my good fortune; at all events, 
whether they did or not, I have raised myself immeasura- 
bly above their approbation or dissent, by deserting them.^^ 

As she uttered these unlovely sentiments, her mellow 
voice rang sweet and clear, and her selfish soul looked out 
arrogantly from her fine eyes. * 

This time neither of the gentlemen sought to break in on 
her reflections, till she flashed an impatient glance from the 
window, murmuring: 

AVhat can have detained my uncle? We are to travel 
to Nairn to-night, and it is high time we had started. 
Dear me!^^ she cried, suddenly gazing down the street with 
great interest. Is that where my Uncle Tyndale went to?^'’ 

Moray glanced out. 

The old man was emerging from the little stone cottage 
wherein the aged devotee of his house had disappeared an 
hour and a half before. 

Lady Strathmore eyed his approach, as, with slow steps, 
and eyes on the ground, he neared the inn. She half rose, 
her breath came sharply, her countenance became watch- 
fully alert. 

Tyndale Strathmore gave some imperious orders to the 
groom, who was harnessing fresh horses. Tyndale Strath- 
more strode into the Forres Stag,^’ and opened the saloon 
door. His face was pale, his gray brows contracted, his 
lips compressed. They looked at each other, the uncle and 
niece. He faltered as he saw strangers. 

** Come here, I want you,^^ quoth he, quietly. 

He held the door open for her to pass through, took her 
hand, and led her to a private room. 

It might have been twenty minutes subsequently that 
Lady Kilmeny Strathmore came out from her uncle, and 
stood in the inn door-way, leaning against the lintel. She 
gazed blankly down the street, and at the winding Find- 
horn. Her eyes, large, black, and fathomless with some 
fearful shock; her countenance chalked with drear dismay, 
and the exulting blush forever faded from her bloodless 
lips. 

The Hazeldeans were out in the yard collecting their 
hunting apparatus, and hiring a bare-legged boy with va- 
lises, etc., to convey to the Royal Hotel up the street, 


42 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


where the huge yellow ^stage-coach for Keith was now 
standing. 

Moray heard a sigh, and looking up at her, saw her face, 
and dropped his rifle in the straw of the stable-yard. 

^‘Heavens!” ejaculated Moray, in horror, what^s the 
matter with my lady?"*^ 

Tyndale Strathmore cam6 out, and laid his hand on her 
shoulder pityingly, soothingly. Come in, Kilmeny," he 
urged, gently. ‘‘You are too spirited a girl to sink under 
this. Come, we will rest here to-night; we won't start till 
to-morrow morning." 

Then she turned a blazing, passionate gaze full on his 
disturbed face, and then she looked at the roseate clouds 
and the beautiful earth, and at last her dry eyes met those 
of Moray Hazeldean fixed with mournful interest upon her, 
ere he should turn away to follow his brother, stepping fast 
down the street. 

And she laughed a little dreary laugh, and kissing her 
white hand mockingly, cried, with bitterness: 

“Farewell, my friend of short duration! Look your last 
on Kilmeny, Lady of Strathmore!" 

And so she vanished with her uncle. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE HOLLY-SPKAY. 

So the wedding-day was past, and the feast was untouched, 
the guests unwelcomed, the ring unclaimed, the bride — ah, 
where? 

^ Now dull, relentless time stretched beyond — no golden 
circlet binding it in from outer gloom — no sweet and per- 
fected love to gild its drear clouds. It might have been his 
honeymoon; but, hush! such hopes of bliss are not for him, 
and the haggard face of the bridegrom is stern with other 
thoughts than those of happy wedlock. These creeping 
days must tell of tireless search, of keenest vigilance; this 
awful season, for which he has daily sighed for twelve 
months, has brought him the blackest affliction of his life — 
the awful ordeal of “ hope deferred." And yet right bravely 
Alexander Buccleugh held his own of sanguine hope and 
noble perseverance; nothing seemed to soil the purity of his 


TEE BBIDE ELECT, 


43 


faith in hapless Glencora, and through the most appalling 
disclosures, he still pursued, with iron resolve, his way to the 
end. 

The day after their search through Edinburgh, a mes- 
senger came to Denburn at an early hour, requiring the 
presence of the fatigued Buccleugh at Lady-Bank, to meet 
some gentlemen from town. 

Well he knew their errand — they were detectives arrived 
with their report. 

What were Alexander's thoughts as he walked through 
the dewy ferns of the private path^" that sunny morning! 
His face was quiet, his lips were set in sorrowful anguish, 
as he paused a moment at the wicket-gate and looked up 
and down the fairy greenway; then he looked up through 
the trees to the cheerful sky, and the mute appeal touched 
the heart of the servant-maid as she walked behind, and 
she heavily sighed as she paced the shaded footpath. When 
Alexander and Jean Malcolm arrived at Lady-Bank, she at 
once conducted him through the spacious lower passage to 
a pair of green-baize folding-doors, half-way through the 
hall. These she opened, and he beheld a narrow, private 
passage leading off the main part of the house, which, when 
traversed, he found himself at the door of the library. 
Ushering him in, Malcolm withdrew. 

There were several persons assembled to wait for Alex- 
ander. There, at the table, tallest of the group, stood 
Lord Kilcourcy, a thin, wiry old man, with a long upper- 
lip, mouth drooping at the corners, and crow's-feet, of hab- 
itual smiles circling a pair of good-humored eyes; his 
nephew, heir and favorite, Harold Kussel, of a strikingly 
agreeable person, charming manners, and good heart. He 
was a very close friend of Alexander's, and was to have been 
his first groomsman. 

Eussel was a writer for the Signet, and was unengaged in 
affections, as many a belle in the new town pensively re- 
membered. Then there were Mr. Spires, the Chief of Police, 
and a wiry little man whom he introduced as Mr. Curtiss, 
detective officer. Captain Drummond stood at the table 
with a map of Edinburgh spread out, which he was tracing 
with his forefinger, while Mr. Curtiss nodded and took 
snuff. 

Mrs. Ellathorne sat at a window, apart, listening, with 
anxious face. 


44 


THE BRIBE ELECT, 


When Alexander turned from greeting the unhappy lady. 
Lord Kilcourcy grasped his hand and wrung it sympathet- 
ically. 

‘‘ Good-morning to you, Buccleugh. I had not thought 
to find you in such a plight to-day. This is a curious acci- 
dent, eh?^^ said he, bluntly. 

^^V\\ take care, my lord, that those concerned in it will 
rue ^ the accident,'’ returned Alexander, quietly. 

The captain pressed his hand and hastily turned away 
his face, and then Harold Russel drew him round to his side 
of the table, and, linking his arm in his, and without more 
ado, plunged into -business. ^ 

^^How that Mr. Buccleugh has arrived, I will give our re- 
port of yesterday^s proceedings,^^ began Mr. Spires, 
on Alexander a pair of inquisitive gray eyes, whose atten- 
tion never swerved from his face during the whole of the 
succeeding consultation. “ I must tell you beforehand, 
however, that we have made no important discovery as yet, 
unless the two suspicious cases I am about to mention may 
be considered worth pursuing. Acting on a hint from Cap- 
tain Drummond, I sent to the residence of Lord Kilcourcy, 
and a few inquiries elicited some unknown facts. In tlie 
first place, my lord related his meetings with you on Tues- 
day evening at this Lady-Bank gate as you returned from 
your bank, just as you had previously related it, which 
proves the accuracy of your representation. In the second 
place. Lord Kilcourcy and his nephew did not meet Captain 
Drummond^s gardener wheeling a barrowful of flower pots 
frorn the horticultural gardens, which proves that your sug- 
gestion that my lord and Mr. Russel were the two gentle- 
men in the close carriage whom he did meet, is not as cor- 
rect as your former asseveration. In the third place, my lord 
and Mr. Russel did not turn their carriage in Gower Lane by 
the grove, which proves that some other carriage did do so. 
In the fourth place, Mr. Ruesel can prove that another close 
carriage actually did come down the lane, perhaps a quarter 
of an hour before they passed Lady-Bank gate, the second 
time returning from their drive to the town, for, as they 
did so, Mr. Russel being on the seat beside the driver, from 
choice, looked up the avenue, and saw the old gardener stag- 
gering under a mighty flower pot which he was carrying 
across the lawn, having evidently just arrived. Kow, as 
the gardener describes that carriage which he had met. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


45 


probably at half-past five, it was driven by a staid, gentle- 
manly person, looking more like a groom out of place, than 
by any means a cabman, that he is sure of ; and the only 
inmate of the carriage he saw was an old gentleman, with 
what he calls ^ a nose like a hawk’s beak,^ sitting with his 
back to the horses, and his eyes fixed on the road, which 
leads to the suspicion that some one else occupied the back 
seat, most probably a lady. 

‘^Thus, as the case stands, the close carriage is the only 
object of suspicion we have yet come across; but now a 
question arises, when did it drive from town, so as to avoid 
three chances of being seen. First, by Mr. Buccleugh 
walking out to the Lady-Bank gate; second, by my lord, 
who overtook him there; and third, by the gardener toiling 
painfully and slowly through Gower Lane for at least an 
hour? That question we cannot answer; if the carriage 
turned on its tracks at the wicket-gate where Mr. Buccleugh 
left the lady we are in search of, it must have staid in 
some mysterious concealment while my lord^s carriage 
passed the first time. The only possible place of conceal- 
ment is the old Manor house between Lady-Bank and the 
city, which is at present untenanted. My men investigated 
the place, but the huge iron-studded gate was locked, and 
when they forced an entrance, the walks were overgrown 
with turf, and a shower having fallen through the night, 
every track might easily have been obliterated. A carriage 
might have stopped there on Tuesday afternoon, but we have 
no proof. 

‘‘Acting on the data I have described to you, I sent my 
men to the various stables in the city in search of the cab 
which was hired without a driver. Out of some fifty prom- 
ising cases I select the two following for the present: At 
about four o^clock on Tuesday afternoon, two young gentle- 
men came to Bucklers cab establishment, and the younger 
of the two hired a handsome close cab, without a driver, 
saying they would drive themselves. The elder gentleman 
seemed much disturbed, and repeatedly dissuaded his com- 
panion from starting on the intended drive at all, calling it 
by some such name as ‘ a piece of folly — an unworthy un- 
dertaking.^ The younger man seemed irritated, and pres- 
ently said, vehemently: 

“ ‘ I tell you she fears — has cause to fear him. I must 
and will save her. She has put her fate in my hands. 


46 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


Don’t dictate to me, man! I must not forsake her with this 
letter in my hands. Why, by Jove! Fd carry her off to- 
night, if I could!’ 

Something to this effect the young man said, and then 
the other coldly refused to go with him. He said he ^ would 
not interfere between the two, who were as good as man 
and wife already, however bad he was, however good she 
was.’ And at last the other sprang on to the box himself, 
and, without another glance at him, drove off. The elder 
gentleman shortly after took leave, paying the hostler, how- 
ever, for two hours’ hire of the horse. A few minutes be- 
fore six he came back again, asking whether his brother 
had returned, and, hearing he had not, announced his in- 
tention of waiting there to see him when he did. At half- 
prst six the young man appeared, driving furiously. He 
sprang from the cab, and when he saw his brother, came to 
him, with a very pale face. ^ She’s gone. Heaven help me!’ 
he said, in the greatest agitation. He was very incoherent. 
The astonished stabler who took the cab could not make 
much out of his words, he was in such a state. The 
brother tried to calm him down as they walked away 
arm in arm. The impression on the man’s mind at the time 
was, that the young fellow was deceiving his prudent 
brother, and that he had run off with, or intended to run 
off with, the young lady. He thinks so because the brother 
said, sharply, Why not let the matter rest, then, if it is as 
you say? Why should you go away?’ They left the sta- 
bles in eager dispute; and the man is assured that he could 
identify either of them if he ever saw them again. 

^^The other case I selected is not so significant; in fact, 
there is nothing promising in it, except that the driver is 
not able to tell a straight story about it. At one o’clock in 
the afternoon of Tuesday last, an old gentleman appeared 
at McJennet’s livery-stable, and ordered a carriage for the 
afternoon. He was evidently a stranger, for he spoke with 
a strong Aberdeenian accent, and looked about him a great 
deal. He obtained a dark -green close carriage, lined with 
chocolate-colored cloth, and a pair of large chestnut mares, 
which description tallies pretty well with the gardener’s 
careless one. A man from McJennet’s drove him, and this 
man returned with the cab at seven o’clock, very drunk in- 
deed, and particularly jubilant over some unknown piece of 
luck, which he wasn’t too drunk to keep a secret. His ac- 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


47 


count of the day is, that the old gentleman drove straight 
to a poor quarter of the city, and, stopping at a tenement- 
house, went in, and in half an hour came out again with a 
sickly, sorrowful-looking young woman, evidently his 
daughter, and placed her in the carriage. They then 
drove out of the city on various country roads, aimlessly, 
the old man leaving it to the cabman to fill up the after- 
noon driving wherever he pleased. At last they returned 
to the young woman’s residence, in Earl Grey street; there 
they got out, and the cabman waited around for another 
fare. He insists that the gentleman gave him half a crown 
to drink his daughter’s health, and that he did so, and got 
drunk. Unknown to him, I sent to the house he described. 
The young lady turns out to be a Mrs. Cargill, an unfor- 
tunate creature, who is in trouble, and whose kind old 

father, a Mr. Forsyth, hosier. No. Union street, came 

from Aberdeen to succor her. She says that her father dis- 
missed the carriage at four o’clock, and he came back at 
seven. So three hours are to be accounted for, and that 
cabman won’t account for them. He denies having ob- 
tained any other passenger, and is sulky on the subject. 
One thing more: as a brother hostler of Me Jennet’s yard 
chaffing with the tipsy groom, he opened the carriage "door 
and looked in. He saw nothing but a spray of leaves lying 
on the back seat, which at first he took to be a valuable 
plant, but which, when he picked it up, proved to be only 
a twig with a few leaves of holly. So our best ” 

Mr. Spires stopped abruptly, smitten to a silence by a 
sudden gesture of Alexander Buccleugh’s, gaping in amaze 
at the livid countenance of the unhappy young man. 

Stop there,” said Alexander, hoarsely. You have 
found the clew.” 

^‘The holly spray, eh?” muttered Mr. Spires, watching 
him with pursed lips. 

^^That man knows what became of Glencora,” cried Alex- 
ander, fiercely. Hunt him down till he confesses all. 
That holly spray proves that he knows. I placed it in her 
hair on Tuesday evening. 

^^Who saw you place it in her hair?” asked Mr. Spires, 
slowly. 

He did not intend the imputation of mistrust conveyed 
in this cross-examination; it was his business to cross-ques- 
tion everybody. 


48 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


I beg Mr. Spires’ pardon,” here interposed Mrs. Ella- 
thorne, earnestly, ‘‘but Alexander’s word may and must be 
trusted in everthing. The girls saw him, as they looked 
from the parlor window, pluck a branch from the hedge by 
the gate, and fasten it in the back of her head.” 

Mr. Spires bowed, and looked at Alexander with a half 
smile. 

“How did you part from Miss Calvert?” demanded lie, 
suddenly. 

“ Where, do you mean? Oh, by the wicket; she came 
home by the private path (he described minutely), I by the 
canal.” 

Mr. Spires turned sharply on his subordinate. 

“ Notes, Mr. Curtiss,” said he, shortly. 

In a second the detective had out his little note-book, 
jotting away like a reporter. 

“ Who saw you come back to Lady-Bank house, by the 
canal?” asked Mr. Spires. 

Alexander frankly admitted that no one happened to 
meet him, to his knowledge. 

“ Did you part with the lady on good terms, Mr. Buc- 
cleugh?” pursued Mr. Spires. 

A positive smile, transitory as the ripple on the wave, yet 
almost scornful, trembled on Alexander’s lip ere he an- 
swered, patiently: 

“ Oh, yes, indeed, we were what you call on good terms; 
but we made no parting of it; we were to meet again in 
five minutes.” 

“ You were contracted in marriage to the lady?” said Mr. 
Spires. 

Alexander did not trust himself to speak; he bowed his 
head, and leant heavily on the arm of his friend Russel. 

“ Humph — yes,” Mr. Spires deliberated, his hands clasped 
behind hhn, while Mr. Curtiss wrote in cramped short-hand. 
Presently Mr. Spires wheeled on the captain. “Do you 
know, or most remotely suspect, that any one would have 
reason to wish this lady removed; that, any person cherished 
revenge against her, or that any person would be benefited 
by her death 9” 

He sank his voice to utter the last dreary word, but his 
eyes were on Alexander as he audibly breathed it. 

Mrs. Ellathorne hearing, clasped her hands convulsively 
in her lap, and threw a glance of anguish at Alexander. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


49 


So they both saw the gleam of absolute wrath that shot 
from his blue eyes, and the ungovernable spasm of terror 
that tortured his damp brows, and well were all such crumbs 
of observation sifted afterward. 

The captain revolved the significant idea in his brain, but 
came to no conclusion, save the decided opinion that he 
knew of no one who did not love Glennie Calvert, who ever 
knew her. 

Mr. Spires,” uttered Alexander's trembling voice, 

never moot such a thing again. What should ^ve know of 
diabolical plotting against the pure life of such as she? 
AVho could ask such a question that knew her as we did? 
Her whole sweet life was open as the day; neither plot nor 
mystery lurked beneath her lovely seeming. Ask the cap- 
tain; ask Mrs. Ellathorne, who nursed her when a baby; 
go to her little sister, Florice, who knew the very thoughts 
of her bosom. Why should man or devil conspire against 
Glencora?” 

And there was no ” Mr. Spires hesitated before 

the broad, manly gaze of the haughty Buccleugh, and 
bending to the captain, whispered to him, There was no 
previous attachment that you were aware of?” 

Quickly came the captain^s answer, aloud: 

^‘No, Mr. Spires; Glencora never loved but once, and 
that was the man she should have married yesterday.” 

Mr. Spires' threw off his judicial ponderousness, tucked 
his gold snuff-box into his vest-pocket, and, pulling on his 
left-hand glove, turned to the captain, demanding, briskly: 

Gentlemen, do you put the case in my hands?” 

^^Unreservedly, Mr. Spires. Only weigh anchor as soon 
as you can,” cried the captain, eagerly. 

Alexander quickly interposed, however: 

Perhaps you may have a surer chance of success if one 
of us, who know the circumstances ^o minutely, should per- 
sonally aid you, and be kept carefully informed of every 
fresh disclosure. In fact, I wish to beg you to accept me 
as a colleague in the work. I shall know her under any 
circumstances, however unexpected; in any disguise they 
may force her to assume, however obscure; whereas your 
cleverest officers might pass her daily, face to face, and be 
none the wiser.” 

Mi*. Spires nodded two or three times, and as he cogitated, 
his half-sniile tvas not pleasant to see. 


50 


THE BBIBE ELECT. 


Very good, Mr. Buccleugh — very good! You shall be 
the companion of Mr. Curtiss. But, mind, you^ll have 
yourself to thank if you are led to any disagreeable discovery 
in the course of the investigations, which, I promise you, 
will be keen as the winter wind. I warn you, there may be 
strange people implicated.” 

You would spare my feelings from rude shocks, would 
you?” said Alexander, scornfully. Truly, I have no feel- 
ings alive but the hope of winning her from her abductors, 
or, if that hope is in vain, the thirst for vengeance. Now, 
let us arrange our plans. It is time that the first link of this 
subtle chain was in our hands.” 

With a last admiring survey of Alexander, Mr. Spires 
nipped the note-book out of Mr. Curtiss' fingers, ran his 
eyes over the cabalistic signs therein, added a note or two 
himself, and then, resting his finger tops lightly on his sub- 
ordinate's little shoulder, said, importantly: 

Very well, Mr. Buccleugh, we are agreed. Now this is 
your man for patient and thorough search; his sagacity will 
scent a trail when every one else despairs. Well, sir, your 
first move is to go straight to Me Jennet's yard, and see 
what you can make of that cabman; make it worth his 
while, and he will divulge everything. If you are success- 
ful in discovering anything of advantage, send a hint to 
me, and at once proceed to business. I shall contrive 
to obtain the address of the two young bloods who differed 
over the unknown lady before night, and then I advise 
you. Captain Drummond, to go personally to them, and 
obtain all the information they are willing to give. And 
now, good-morning, Curtiss. There’s your colleague; do 
your best.” 

Mr. Spires gave him a gentle shove that sent him to Alex- 
ander's elbow, where he stood, patient and alert, biding the 
time for his genius to win him laurels. Then the director 
of the detective force showed him out of the library. 

^ Mrs. Ellathorne instantly seized Alexander and "Mr. Cur- 
tiss, and conducting them into the pretty breakfast-room, 
where Florice, pallid and heavy-eyed, drooped behind the 
daintily laid tray, set them down to eat, with strict orders 
to Alexander to make no pretense of doing so. 

Plunged in perplexed abstraction, after the first mutual 
glance of sympathy and low-spoken greetings, Alexander 
forgot Florice and all beside in his reflections; but, ah, how 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


51 


dreary such silence was to her! How she longed to ask but 
one question I Little information could she gleam from the 
face of the sharp-eyed little cormorant at her left hand, 
with visage of wary self-repression, and Alexander's con- 
tracted brows and attitude of anxious thought only deep- 
ened her apprehension. Her heavy sigh reached his ear, 
and, looking up, he met her look of pain and terror. 

‘^Have you discovered nothing?'^ faltered she, trem- 
blingly. 

Then he did his best, and clearing his brow of its gloom 
as best he might, told her the hopeful side of the case; and 
she caught sweet assurance from his words, and lifted up 
her head, and was comforted. 

Mrs. Ellathorne had sent a servant to Denburn for Alex- 
ander^’s horse and gig, and leaving Mr. Curtiss modestly en- 
joying his colfee, and basking in the timid kindness which 
Florice heaped upon the man whom her sanguine little soul 
assured her was to bring her back her darling and pride, 
Alexander hastened to the parlor to consult with the cap- 
tain before he set out with the detective. 

He found the girls there, clustered around Lord Kil- 
courcy, who, with characteristic good humor, was labor- 
iously narrating, to ease their curiosity, all he could remem- 
ber of Mr. Spire^s communication. 

Harold Russel, leaning against the black marble mantel- 
piece, watched each girlish face, in its soft wistfulness, or 
vivid interest, but did not disturb the narrative. Sooth to 
say, Mr. Russehs tongue, though bold and authoritative 
enough in the court, was wont to be mute when the court 
was ruled by women. 

As Alexander stood with the captain in the window, J es- 
sie Buccleugh detached herself from her companions and 
tripped across the room to him. 

Here you are, dear old cousin — ^poor Alexander mur- 
mured she, feelingly. Ah, me! that I could be of use to 
you!’" 

As she threw back her head to look up at him from 
her tiny stature, Harold Russel, by the mantel, thrilled in 
secret admiration at the tender meaning of her face. Never 
had woman seemed so fair in his eyes as she, in her artless 
pity. 

Dear little girlie!” answered Alexander, looking fondly 
at her, ^^you are of use to me, and when all this black 


62 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


season is past forever, and we are happy in the sunshine 
again, then, my bonnie wee Jessie, you shall see how I shall 
reward you for your loving sympathy in these evil days. 
And now, captain. I'll go. There's Houri prancing up the 
avenue. Give me your blessing, little cousin, and then go 
to Florice. Poor child! she needs a sister!" 

She hung on his arm, looking up \/ith swimming eyes. 

I'm going to try to be a sister to Florice," said she, 
softly. I couldn't leave her, or you, in such distress. I 
wrote to mamma that I wasn't going back to Ayr till — till 
Glennie came back to you. Madgie and Marian are going 
away to-day, and poor Florice is sick crying over them. But 
am I keeping you? Is that the gentleman who is going 
with you ?" 

Mr. Curtiss was standing in the hall, his keen eye taking 
in the little tableau in the sunny parlor. 

A frontispiece of gracious import was that slender girl, 
all uncoAscious of her beauty and poAver, clinging fondly 
to the gloomy Alexander, whose thoughts, scarcely then for 
her, were dwelling on, possibly, darker scenes. 

But were they not a likely pair? Near of kin, too. Yes, 
she leant very fondly on his arm. Did he know it? 

Never a word," said Simon Curtiss, as he eyed them, 
with ears pricked for worse. Perhaps he made a note, 
mentally, in the finest phonography. 

Houri was pawing holes in the gravel, and champing the 
silvered bit till the white foam fell in specks on her sleek 
chest, and the groom was coddling her pretty head to trap 
her into patience, when Alexander walked hastily out, the 
captain at his heels, deep in eager suggestions. He sprang 
to his seat, Mr. Curtiss clambered to his place on his left 
hand, and then, receiving a fervent ^^goodspeed, my 
boy!" from the captain, and bowing a somber adieu to the 
friends gathered at the casement to see him off, Alexander 
curved into the leafy avenue, and then dashed off. 

Time is precious," remarked the oracular Mr. Curtiss, 
as they smoothly rolled through Gower lane. 

Precious, indeed!" returned Alexander, none the more 
patient for the spur. What if we don't-find thenabman?" 

I took care of that," said the detective, dryly. I gave 
Me Jennet a hint yesterday to keep his e^e on the fellow to- 
day, in case we might want him. Look, we are passing 
the old Manor house. What do you think of Mr. Spire's 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


63 


theory of the carriage having hidden there? Think it 
possible ?^^ 

Alexander looked curiously at the ponderous gate, 
rounded and spiked at the top, studded with huge-headed 
nails, padlocked on the outside, and set deeply in the 
massive stone wall, which was overhung with the insidious 
ivy that was sapping its strength. 

^'Possible? Yes; but scarcely probable. I donT know, 
though. It canT be proved, you see. Ever been inside?'’^ 
asked his curt colleague. 

Yes, I know the grounds well. Two years ago, when I 
came to live in the suburbs, I thought of buying the Manor 
house, but preferred Denburn, when I found out who were 
my neighbors. Heigho! Come Houri.'^'’ 

When, in due time, they turned into McJennePs stable- 
yard, Mr. Curtiss nudged Alexander with his elbow, and, 
following the direction of his glance, he saw a stout hostler 
mopping the glittering panels of a family coach with cold 
water from a bucket, and enlivening his toil by a steady 
hiss. 

When he caught sight of the furrowed old face of little 
Mr. Curtiss, he suspended his occupation, and, leaning on 
his mop-handle, stared grimly at him, while he wiped his 
red face with a broad, brawny hand. 

Another glance of Mr. Curtiss^ eye restrained Alexander’s 
eagerness, and, Mr. Curtiss calling up the man, gave their 
horses in charge, and then conducted Alexander to the 
private office, where they found McJennet himself. 

^^Back again, like Sinbad’sold man,” quoth Mr. Curtiss. 
'T see you’ve boxed him for me to open the lid and let him 
out, if he’s good.” 

^‘1 kept him for you to-day, but with some manuvering,” 
laughed the proprietor. He begged most pathetically to 
get off on a holiday. I presume his perquisites of Tuesday 
evening must be burning a hole in his pocket; he thirsts to 
get rid of them.” 

Be good enough to give us 5 ^our office for perhaps five 
minutes, possibly a couple of hours, according as he proves 
contumacious, and send him in.” 

When Mr. McJennet had gone, Mr. Curtiss rose, opened 
the two doors of the counting-room, peered out into the 
passages, then closed one, locked it, and hid the key, and 


54 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


sitting down waited with his chin on the top of his umbrella 
for his victim to enter through the other. 

Presently he did so, with a dogged air. They heard Mr. 
McJennet turn the key of the entrance door, and the man 
smiled grimly. 

‘^Now, Thompson, my fine fellow, began Mr. Curtiss, 
plunging at once to the heart of his subject. “I see you 
have made up your mind to tell us the little history you 
could not remember yesterday. We have proved the truth 
of the first chapter of the tale you so kindly related, and 
sympathize in the speedy suction of your old friend For- 
sythes half crown into the jaws of five cronies at the bar; 
and now be good enough to trace to its source the reappear- 
ance of the succeding nineteen shillings and sixpence, 
which appears in the tavern bill against ‘Davy Thompson, 
Tuesday, July twenty-sixth, received payment.^ 

“Did I say that yester ^en?^^ asked the bothered cabman. 

“Bosh! didn't you, though? You may have said so; 
jerhaps you only composed the little fiction. Maybe I 
had a hand in its composition — who knows? You were 
very ‘happy' that evening. Any way, not many half- 
crowns would have stood so long to represent drinks for a 
tavernful of brother cabbies twice round. Yours did, or 
else the 19s. 6d. did. Come, Thompson, no more gammon. 
You see I've been over the ground after you," said Mr. Cur- 
tiss, suavely. 

Thompson growled in his beard. 

“Ow, I ken ye're an officer in disguise," muttered 
Thompson. 

Mr. Curtiss chuckled at his penetration. 

“ Let me present this gentleman to you, then," said he, 
with a smile. “ Neither spy nor policeman, I assure you. 
Confide your innocent little adventure to him; he won't 
punish its guilt, and I won't convict its illegality, if you 
are truthful. Come, he is a friend of the lady we are 
seeking." 

“Oh! it's a leddy ye're seekin', is it?" exclaimed the cab- 
man. “ I ken naething about the leddy ye're seekin'. The 
gentles may 'gree among themsels; it's no for the likes o' 
us dirt under their fit to meddle or mak at ween them." 

“ She was neither selfish nor proud," pleaded Alexander, 
with emotion. “ She was a true friend to the poor, and 
counted them not the dirt under her feet, but as her 


FLORICE, PUT THE VAIL OFF. IT’S NOT LUCKY FOR THE BRIDE.”— (P. 7.) 



f V 









56 


THE BE IDE ELECT. 


brothers and sisters. I am sure you would not conceal any 
circumstance that might restore such a lady to her friends 
and family, if you had known her as scores of the poorest 
in the county knew her, an angel of mercy.” 

The rough fellow’s sulky brows unbent. He began to look 
foolish. 

We’ll make it worth your while to givens the story,” 
interposed Mr. Curtiss, seeing the break in the clouds, and 
trying to edge in an additional lever. 

Hand yer ill tongue off me,” retorted Thompson. I 
dinna need to be bribed to speak for this gentleman, though 
doubtless he’d have to pay ye a pretty penny for spy in’ for 
him. Sir (to Alexander), I canna tell ye muckle, but jest 
ken eneuch to mak some somethid’ o’. Noo what is it ye 
want me to ken ?” 

His better nature was aroused. He waited in good faith 
for the cue. 

^Must tell me where you drove the parties who hired your 
services after you left the old gentleman and his daughter 
in Earl Gray street.” 

Thompson put his hands in his pockets, took a sudden 
turn on his heels, jocosely whistling, then stood straight as 
a ramrod, leering at the little Curtiss, who, note-book on 
knee, was all ready to make hay while the sun shone. 

Weel, here’s a bargain!” he broke out in a sudden 
burst of confidence. When I tell ye a’ about it, will ye 
let me keep the siller he gied me? I cam honestly by it, 
and could ha’ tauld lang syne if I was na feared that the 
maister wad claim it.” 

^^All right, my dear friend — keep it, and welcome,” 
cried Mr. Curtiss, graciously. Consider that siller as a 
reward Horn me for your modest merit, and not at all as a 
^ self-presented testimonial.’ ” 

The happy Thompson turned his hands elbow deep into 
his jingling pockets, drew a long sigh of intense self-gratu- 
lation, and commenced: 

^MVeel, sir”— again to Alexander — didna drive ony- 
body else onywhere on Tuesday afternoon, that’s true 
eneuch, but I’ll tell you what I did do. 

When auld Mr. Forsyth and his daughter were 
home^ again in Earl Gray street, I just wandered my 
ways into a dram-shop I knew there to drink the leddy’s 
health in the half-crown he gied me,” (this with a side 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


57 


glance of malicious triumph at tlie unmoved Curtiss), 
“an^ as I was counting out the ha^penny^s worth for my. 
chields, I saw' a decent like mon, with a stout staff, 
and a lang traveling poncho, open the cab door, and 
look into the empty carriage; then he ran round to the 
ither side, an^ opened that door, and pit his head into 
the carriage frae that 'side; and by this time I was 
stanhn on the door-step bawlin^ at him. Then he 
walked back to me, and saying ^Is this cab occupied?^ 
I said it wasna; that it was Just waitin^ for him to occupy 
it; an^ he asked, fule-like, if I kent wha was in it last. 
And I swore I didna. Then he stood twirlin'* his thums, 
while he glanced at me a^ ower, and by and by he 
handed me a bit o^ paper, and said, ^ D^ye ken wha that 
is?^ I read it, and said I didna. ^That^s me,' said he, 

^ an' that’s my address. I want to hire this cab for a mat- 
ter o' four hours, maybe longer. Gie it to me wi'out your- 
sel' to drive it, an' forbye the regular fare, ye sal hae this 
gowden guinea to yoursel'.' Weel, as I was very drouthy 
then, an' my cronies were waitin' at the bar for me, I jist 
said ay, an' to bring my horses back to the tavern, an' he 
poked his guinea into my loaf, climbed up into my box, an' 
drove awa'. Sae I waited there, an' got roarin' fou, an' at 
last he comes back wi' the nags a' weet an' pantin' wi' heavy 
drivin'. He took me frae the shop, an' helped me to my 
place. ^ Gang hame, my good fellow,' says he, an' take 
thae fine brutes out o' harness, an' pit them safely up, an' 
lay yersel' safely doon. An' I advise ye, as a freend, no' to 
show yersel' or yer horses to your maister, or ye may get a 
dismissal in the morn.' Then he gied me a five-pound note, 
and caed me a sober, honest chap, an' I cam hame to 
Me Jennet's." 

Mr. Curtiss* looked up from his note-book, where he was 
writing, word for word. 

^^Hand me the gentleman's card." 

Thompson dived into the depths of his trousers pockets, 
and produced it. 

McGillvray, Midlothian Hotel," was neatly en- 
graved on the enameled card. 

” Are you sure you could identify him again if called on 
to do so?" 

Thompson nodded confidently. 

Describe him, then." 

/ 


68 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


A lang, thin mon, as lean as the links the crook, wi^ 
black hooles on een, an^ a crooked nose. He wasna a honnie 
chield, but he was gay young, maybe forty-five. 

Very good, Thompson. Now, what time did he come 
for the cab?” 

Maybe half -past four.” 

^^And when did he bring it back?” 

I wonna say, for Tm no sur awa. I got hame aboot 
seven; I suppose he micht ha cam to me near sax.” 

Very good,” repeated Mr. Curtiss, elated. That cor- 
responds exactly with the hour or the disappearance. One 
question more, though. When Mr. Forsyth and Mrs. Car- 
gill were out riding, did you stop anywhere that they might 
have obtained a spray of holly leaves?” 

That I didna,” replied Thompson, stoutly. I never 
set my two een on branch or berry till ye poked thae bit 
leafies up frae the yird i"* the stablery. But Fm sure that it 
wasna in my cab when I left Tuesday morn.” 

Mr. Curtiss closed his book with a snap. 

Well, Davy Thompson,” said he, encouragingly, ^^for a 
witness who promised nothing, you have achieved wonders. 
Here, accept this trifle — not self-presented this time.” 

He threw the cabman a guinea, which he dextrously 
caught in his left hand, and tossed to the ceiling to catch it 
in his right. 

Now for Midlothian Hotel,” said Mr. Curtiss, briskly. 

He rang a bell. The door was unlocked by Me J ennet 
himself. 

‘^All right,” whispered the detective to him. Let 
Thompson off without further question. He has given us the 
clew at last.” 


. CHAPTER VI. 

STKANDED. 

It was well on toward twelve o’clock before Alexander 
and Mr. Curtiss accomplished their next proceeding — the 
visitation of Mr. Gillvray. When first they presented them- 
selves at the Midlothian Hotel they were told that '‘Mr. 
Gillviay was out; he was always out every morning.” 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


59 


Where?” asked Curtiss, secretly amazed at finding Mr. 
McGillvray a bodily substance at all. 

Veil, it^s ^ard to say where, sir,” answered Mr. Downs, 
the hotel-keeper, who was an Englishman, suavely seating 
his visitors in the public parlor. “ Mr. McGillvray is a gen- 
tleman as ^as plenty of money and plenty of time to spend 
it, sir; and where he goes of a morning to be amused, I can'^t 
pretend to say, sir.” 

^^All right — wefil wait,” quoth the officer, contentedly, 
laying hat and gloves on the table. When he comes, tell 
him gentlemen are waiting to see him.” 

They had not waited long, when the landlord came to 
them and said : 

''Gents, Mr. Gillvray ^as arrived, and waits the honor. 
No. 21, sir; right-hand side,” and retreated. 

The room was found, and Curtiss executed a low, scien- 
tific platoon upon the door, and a bland voice cried, " Come 
in.” 

They entered, and were face to face with a gentleman of 
about middle age, fiorid, sandy-whiskered, a trifie bald, and 
with a slender, youthful-looking figure; yet, withal, an air as 
if W. McGillvray, Esq., was no stranger to the good things 
of this life; but in no way resembling the "long, lean 
man ” described by the coachman. He was drawn up in 
his arm-chair close to the window, in rather a timorous atti- 
tude, and glanced apprehensively from one to the other of 
his visitors. 

"Hem,” muttered Curtiss to himself, "Thompson has 
been pretty drunk. Ah,” clearing his throat, " Mr. Mc- 
Gillvray?” showing the enameled card. 

"Yes, that is my name and my card,” replied the gentle- 
man, glancing at it. 

" This gentleman,” pursued Curtiss, setting himself vig- 
orously to business, "is Mr. Buccleugh, of DenOurn, Tower 
Lane (watching Mr. McGillvray with a keen eye as he said 
this. He saw no change in the expectant face, ready to 
acknowledge the introduction at the proper moment) "and 
I am Simon Curtiss, his friend.” 

Mr. McGillvray rose and bowed twice. 

" Will you pardon my apparent rudeness, if I ask you a 
few unimportaynt questions on behalf of Mr. Buccleugh, 
who is much interested in getting a small fact, relating 
indirectly to you, settled to his mind?” 


60 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


certainly/" said the gentleman, with a puzzled 

look. 

Mr. Curtiss cleared his throat again, produced his note- 
book, and ran over it. 

I got your card from a cabman, who stated that it was 
given him by a gentleman who occupied his carriage on 
Tuesday evening last. Did you hire a cab at any inn on 
Tuesday evening last?"" 

“ Although the card is mine, I was in no cab on Tuesday 
evening. Whoever used the card was an impostor, I assure 
you, gentlemen,"" said Mr. McGrillvray, looking sorely puz- 
zled. 

The reason why we called upon you, Mr. McGillvray,"" 
broke in Alexander, heedless of a motion to restrain him- 
self from Mr. Curtiss, ^^is the necessity we are under of 
discovering a certain person who occupied one of Mr. Mc- 
Jennet"s carriages on Tuesday evening, between five and six 
o"clock."" 

He then stated the sudden disappearance of his bride- 
elect, and the suspicions which attached to the occupants 
of the carriage as her abductors, together with the finding 
of the card. 

Oh, I now see why you came to me,"" said Mr. McGill- 
vray, hotly. The villain who got the carriage for this 
atrocious business 'stole my card, hoping to make me appear 
as the forcible abductor of the lady. I am sincerely 
grieved, Mr. Buccleugh, that such a great misfortune 
should have overtaken you; but assure you that I am in no 
way accountable for it."" 

Both Alexander and Mr. Curtiss had been convinced of 
this the moment they had entered Mr. McGillvray"s room, 
and they now rose and begged his pardon for their intru- 
sion. He responded with warm wishes for their success in 
the search. 

''Mr. Buccleugh, not so fast!"" whispered Curtiss, as 
Alexander was hastening out of the hotel; ^‘we"re not done 
with the landlord yet; one or two questions of him, and 
then we"ll go. Step in here."" 

He preceded the way into the public parlor they had left 
before, and seated himself comfortably. 

/ Go and fetch Mr. Downs here a minute,"" he cried to a 
waiter who was passing the door. 

How, Mr. Buccleugh, it"s now or never he whispered. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


61 


nodding significantly; ‘’^ifwe can^t get tlie story of the 
card out of this hotel, wehe checkmated in this move/^ 

Mr. Downs entered pompous — suave as ever. 

Veil, gentlemen, what can I do for you ?^^ 

This gentleman would like you to be so good as to help 
him to same information,^^ said Curtiss. 

^‘Always ^appy to oblige a gentleman, responded the 
Englishman. 

‘‘Mr. Buccleugh, my friend — and patron — ahem! is very 
anxious to know if any gentleman — man — or messenger of 
any kind, called here to see our honored friend Mr. McGill- 
vray, during his absence on Tuesday afternoon, from two 
to four o^clock.-’^ 

“Any gent — man — or snob to see Mr. McGillvray, 
Tuesday afternoon. No, sir.^^ 

“No one here having a card, or perhaps sent by him for 
his card-case, which he might have forgotten? suggested 
the wary Curtiss, viith fi^iesse. 

The burly hotel-keeper continued slowly shaking his 
head. 

“ Try to remember; now broke in Alexander, eager and 
comprehending. “I must know how Mr. McGill vray^s 
card was obtained and made use of by some stranger on 
Tuesday evening. 

“ Tliafs it sir ! cried Downs, “ now you bring it clear 
— now you hirrays up my memory ! I gave a card to Mr. 
Forsyth on Tuesday morning, as a direction back to this ^ere 
"otel; and faith, neither Mr. Forsyth, sir, nor a vestige of 
him, sir, have been here since, whateveFs the reason sir, 
and his valise and umbrella and mackintosh awaiting him 
•’ere, sir.^^ 

Explain,'" urged Mr. Buccleugh in surprise; “we have 
surely heard that name to-day before — have we, Curtiss?" 

That gentleman, with snapping eyes and watchful mien, 
silently nodded — and out came the note book. 

“Veil, sir," said Downs, “I'll tell you all about it. On 
Monday evening, sir, a gentleman arrived 'ere in a 'ackney 
cab from the railway station, just straight from Aberdeen. 
Veil, sir, he stayed 'ere all night, and in the morning about 
nine o'clock, he sends for me and he says, ^ My good man, 
I'm going to see my daughter, and I want to spend the day 
with her, poor thing, and I’m coming back here to get my 
things and return to Aberdeen on the night train. Now, 


62 


TEE BEIDE ELECT 


Mr. Downs, IVe an awful short memory, and when I step 
out of this ^andsome ^otel, and find a carriage and drive 
away to my daughter, and yet thinking of her — I'll forget 
where this 'ere house is — where this 'ere street is — what's 
your name — and what the name of your 'otel is, for I've 
never been in Edinburgh before; so, my good sir, ^you must 
give me your address that I may know where to come back.' 
Then I considered a minute, until I thought of the gents' 
cards that they leaves in the basket there on the mantel- 
piece, and I went and took one out." 

What do you keep 'em there for? " cut in Mr. Curtiss, 
holding his book in the hollow of his hand and attentively 
scribbling behind his hat. 

Vy, sir, when any of my gentlemen boarders go out 
without seeing me and don't intend to come back to dinner 
they steps in 'ere and leaves their card in this basket, and I 
looks them over before dinner and sets the covers accord- 
ingly. So as I was telling you I 'anded out Mr. MoGill- 
vray's card because the address was on it. Mr. Forsyth took 
it thankfully and dropped it into his big, burly pocket-book, 
and then he went away to get a carriage, and I 'aven't seen 
him since. He 'asen't forgotten the 'otel after all, surely; 
then vy doesn't he send for his valise, which waits in his 
room just as he left it?" 

And that's all?" said Mr. Curtiss, pocketing his report 
and rising. That's all we want here, sir. Mr. Buccleugh 
come along." 

I am really much indebted to your kindness in supply- 
ing me with this information," said Alexander, stopping a 
moment in his gentle, courteous fashion, and placing a 
guinea upon the table. 

Proud to be of service, sir — proud to be of service." 

Once on the street, Curtiss stepped into his importance 
again. 

‘'Now, Mr. Buccleugh," he chirruped briskly, "the 
chances are that we have got the nut open at last. Now for 
the cracking of the kernel. We're going to the telegraph 
office to have a few words with this very nice Aberdeenian." 

Quickly they traversed the distance, entered the building 
and soon the first bulletin was flying over the wires, first to 
the chief inspector of police, Aberdeen, demanding the 
address of Jonas Forsyth, Esq., hosier and glover. The 
answer was speedily obtained: "No. — , Union street." 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


63 


Then that gentleman was himself addressed, as if from 
the deserted Downs: ^^Had he forgotten to send for his 
valise, etc., at Midlothian Hotel, Nicholson street? 

Answer — Mr. Downs: — Dear sir: — Old Nick was in my 
pocket. Lost the card before I had been out an hour; for- 
got your blessed name; came home in the shirt I left Aber- 
deen, much to Mrs. F.^s disgust. Forward valise in evening 
train to yours gratefully, . J. Forsyth.” 

Mr. Curtiss took this telegam with knit brows, his small, 
keen eyes snapped wrathfully, the corners of his mouth 
came down in a droop, he flung himself out of the office, 
leaving Alexander to finish the arrangements, and send a 
note to Downs with Mr. Forsythes message. 

“Lost it!” he muttered between his teeth, as once more 
they stood together in the street. “ The card has been a 
blind, and Mr. McGillvray has shared the honors with Thomp- 
son, the groom, of keeping us off the track of being ignorant 
tools, until the villains have had time to escape. TheyNe 
been too many for us there; that carriage is disposed of. If 
Bucklers proves as unproductive, Fm afraid, Mr. Buccleugh 
— Fm afraid the game is lost.^^ 

“We shall hear Captain Drummond^s success,” sighed 
Alexander. 


CHAPTER VII. 

ADRIFT AHD RUDDERLESS. 

Sorrowful, indeed, was that Thursday in July to the dep 
young bride-maids who stood together for the last time in 
the charming parlor which had witnessed so many merry 
days; tears dripping unchecked, but words of heroic hope 
on their lips. 

The cousins — Madge Severn and Marian Gordon — were 
going home. 

Mrs. Ellathorne had objected, Florice had implored, and 
Jessie Buccleugh had dropped tears. But, with the innate 
delicacy that so signally distinguishes the true lady, the two 
girls, though knowing themselves to be very dear friends of 
the family, yet felt that none but those of closest claim 
should witness its deadly misfortune, when they were pow- 
erless to alleviate. 


64 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Wee’ll ride over on horseback as soon as we may/^ said 
Madge, with quivering lips; *^and if Glennie should come 
back — she clasped her hands in deep emotion — as I pray 
every day she may, then, Florice, will send for Madge to 
come and cry with you, when your dear heart is bursting in 
two with joy ? Good-by, Mrs. Ellathorne. May I kiss you 
good-by?^'’ 

She was folded to the heart of the mourning lady, who 
wishfully clung to her pleasant guests, with reluctance let- 
ting them leave her and Florice. 

You are bereaving us of a great boon, my bairns, said 
she, sadly. We need your young, sanguine blood to keep 
our hope alive. • 

^^Now, dear Captain Drummond,^^ said the womanly 
Marian to her moody host, ‘^don^t be letting your appre- 
hensions of defeat get the upper hand of you. Mind, Ik’s 
always darkest before dawn. My old nurse used to tell me, 

^ However black the clouds, thereY aye the bonnie blue lift 
beyond!^ Don^t be downhearted, sir, as long as you can 
look up through a rift in the cloud and see the sky that our 
Father has painted with the hue of hope!’^ 

The lion-hearted captain blessed her in his soul for those 
little words in season. Truly he had need of somebody to 
point to his well-nigh forgotten Captain above ^Mn this 
hour of doubt and impatience. 

Each gentle maiden took the quiet Florice in her arms, 
and kissed her waxen cheek, and then Madge and Marian 
stepped into the barouche which Mr. Severn had sent from 
the city lor his daughter and niece, and slowly rolled down 
the rustling way to Gower lane, and left poor Lady-Bank 
with its sorrow. 

Wearily waited Captain Drummond for the promised 
messenger who was to announce the discovery of the un- 
known brothers; and, at last, appeared a rattling street cab. 
The man descended, opened the dingy door, let down the 
shaky step, and out slipped the expected ambassador. 

A long-bodied man, though short-legged withal; a long- 
headed man, though not wondrous wise-like; a man with 
a pale, smooth, and obsequious face; a man who wore 
rusty black, with many a dissembling wrinkle to hide a 
seam, and an unassuming black beaver, which an under- 
hand manner contrived to make him seem almost a gentle- 
manly man. He stood revealed. 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


65 


My name is Wynde, sir. Captain Drummond, is it not? 
Mr. Spires sent me.'’^ 

The captain sprang down the five shallow steps and 
landed at his side, and, crowding him cheek by jowl and 
knee by knee in his hurry and eagerness, cried, joyfully: 

Glad to see you, Mr. Wynde. You^’ve overhauled our 
man? What?^^ 

“Yes, sir. I was the officer commissioned by the director 
to trace the individual you wanted. I have done so. I 
await to conduct you to his house.” 

“Bravo!” cried the captain, rushing into the hall for his 
hat and gloves. “Jump in, Mr. Wynde!” exclaimed he, in 
great excitement, to the calm sleuth-hound who had brought 
down the game. “ Fll be with you directly.” 

He stepped to the parlor window, where drooped the 
listless Florice. He took her chilly hand and warmed it 
between his own. 

“Cheer you, my bonnie birdie!” whispered the bearded 
captain. “ Cheer your sad heart! Who knows — maybe Fll 
bring her back with me! Is that the face youfil greet her 
with ?” 

She looked at him, breathless, a thrill thawing the chill 
blood in her veins, her blue eyes deepening into black orbs 
of passionate yearning. 

“Oh, guardie! oh, guardie!” she gasped, her brown 
head resting upon his arm. 

He drew her up to his strongly beating heart, held her 
close in a momentary rapture, and left something else from 
the fullness of his hope on her disordered hair than the im- 
pulsive kiss. It stilled her — that strongly beating heart. 
It spoke of room for blessed anticipation, of anticipation 
possibly fulfilled, and not only of forlorn wishings. 

Then he left her; and with scarlet cheeks and passionate 
g^aze she watched the shabby street cab, which drove to 
Gower lane, and rattled out of sight. 

“ By the by, Mr. Wynde, how did you find the gentle- 
men, and who are they?” asked the captain, breaking the 
silence. 

Mr. Wynde smiled, and in smiling showed his long, keen, 
hungry teeth. 

“Ah, sir!” said he, with relish, ‘‘itivas a ticklish job, 
you may be sure. I had Bucklers groom out with me all the 


66 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


morning, and found him at last on the porch of the church 
on Oastlehill/^ 

Bosh, ^ says I, surprised when the groom nudged me. 

^ Is that your mysterious character? AVhy, half Edin- 
burgh knows him.'’ " 

Well, who was he?” asked the captain, when Mr. 
Wynde paused to air his hungry teeth again. 

^^Who, indeed, but Philip Hazeldean, barrister at law. 
^Now, what^s he looking in that church for?^ thinks I. ‘ A 
marriage or a funeral? And is he guarding the door from 
some unwelcome power that may stop proceedings?' And 
I dismissed Buckle's groom, and stole past Mr. Hazeldean 
before he saw me, and poked my head into the church. 
Humph! I drew it back pretty quick, though, when I met 
the eyes of a whole prayer-meeting on their feet, and the 
beadle leaping to the door to hustle me out. I was stand- 
ing devout as a parson with my hat otf, like Mr. Hazeldean 
himself, when the chap reached us, and, looking naturally 
at the youngest and most slashing of the two who stood in 
the porch, reproached Mr. Hazeldean for his ‘ unco irrev- 
erence.' He laughed till he was sick, and then said he was 
waiting for his wife, which was just what I wanted to hear, 
and I vanished, called the first trap I saw empty, and came 
for you. How, Captain Drummond, be very cautious how 
you approach the subject of your questions to the lawyer; 
for he's as quick as the wind. You can't fool him, and if 
he wants to conceal, he'll dodge you half a day. Don't 
give him a chance to know what you are after till you have 
surprised as much as you can out of him. Especially re- 
member to ask where his brother is just now, and if you can 
see him; and here we are.'' 

Mr. Wynde pulled the check-string. The cab stopped 
before an iron-railed double house in Nicholson street; the 
captain descended. Mr. Wynde gave a parting whisper of 
caution, and then the cab rolled around the corner, where 
Mr. Wynde preferred to lurk. 

Captain Drummond opened the trim iron gate, and. 
walked up the narrow, box-trimmed path, looking around 
him with a sensation of intuitive preposession with the peo- 
ple who could arrange such a pretty scene. On either hand 
spread a mosaic of brilliant tints, mo^t artistically arranged, 
octagonal plats of mignonette and blue forget-me-nots, little 
chaparrals of variegated foxglove and snapdragon, wastes 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


67 


of velvet pansies, and the golden-chaliced ranunculus. An- 
imals and shrubs in graceful array met the delighted eye on 
every side; while, divided from this prairie of luxuriance 
by a tiny ornamental palisade, a strip of emerald turf 
stretched from the bolted door of the unoccupied and the 
double house to the iron railing that closed the whole in 
from Nicholson street. 

On this inviting play-ground two manly little fellows were 
disporting themselves with might and main. 

As the handsome captain paused a moment to look at the 
picture, with a half-unconscious smile, the little men 
stopped their play, and regarded him with the button-eyed 
curiosity of childhood, and the older of the twain stepped 
forward and opened the light gate in the wooden palisade, 
and tripped with pretty care off the borders, through the 
devious paths, to the captain^s side. 

Do you want papa, sir?^^ demanded Master Hazeldean, 
looking up into the gentleman^’s face with growing confi- 
dence. Well, sir, there^s the door, and papa is home, and 
111 get him. Come along. 

He ran on before the captain, stopping now and then to 
beckon him with his little brown hand, and when he had 
convoyed him to the door, bounded in to find somebody. 

Standing outside. Captain Drummond had nothing to do 
but to glance through the open window at his elbow to see 
a very pretty bit of life. A graceful though mature lady 
sat by a wicker-work table in a distant corner of the large, 
airy apartment, one foot on the rocker of a mahogany 
cradle, where lay a tiny sprite of perhaps two years, whose 
rose-leaf hands clutched the tassels of the l-ady^s dainty 
gown, and whose wide, bright eyes dwelt on the smiling 
face above her. 

And the fair lady rocked the baby’s cradle, and sewed her 
baby’s milk-white "^pinies,” and musically sang the sprite 
to sleep in the tender rhyme of -"My bonnie wee cradlin’ 
dov’!’’ 

The captain’s kindling eyes expressed all his admiration 
when she presently glanced through the window, perhaps 
to peep at her other pretty ones, and met his gaze. With 
a little start, followed by instant self-possession, she rose, 
and came to the door herself. 

I am so sorry you should have been kept waiting so 
long,” said she, gently. ‘‘ I saw my little Moray leading 


68 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


you to the house, and thought he showed you in. Come in, 
sir. Don^t stand in the sun.^-’ 

Thank you; you are very good,” replied the captain, 
quite charmed; and she conducted him to a drawing-room, 
and comfortably seating him, withdrew, promising to send 
Mr. Hazeldean to him. 

It w^as a dainty little nest of a drawing-room, cool, 
deliciously toned in its tints, and perfumed with summer 
odor. 

At first the visitor looked out, between the fleecy lace 
curtains, at the waving tops of the blossoms without; from 
thence his careless glance wandered to the broad, vase- 
adorned mantel-piece and there became riveted. 

It was only a female profile — a proud female profile and 
bust, which some original artist had filled in with a few 
curving lines of tressss and drapery, and set in a weird 
framing of sprites, fairy pranks of foliage and southern 
flowers, all in richest gold. 

The captain rose, and took the tiny thing in his hand, 
turned the back — no name or sign — and put it up again. 
Why was it that the queenly pride of that perfect half-face 
and molded bust brought so distinctly to him the memory 
of Glencora Calvert? 

He was still contemplating the richly mounted profile, 
when the drawing-room door was opened, and his host en- 
tered. He was a frank and pleasant-mannered gentleman, 
of perhaps thirty, agreeably cordial. 

He greeted the captain kindly, receiving the announce- 
ment of his name with wonderful pleasure, shaking hands 
most heartily upon it, and then they seated themselves, and 
the captain opened his business thus: 

‘^Now, Mr. Hazeldean, how am I to approach the sub- 
ject I have come to speak of wdthout running the risk of 
disagreeably surprising you ?” said he, with ingenuous em- 
barrassment. “ I must promise that the questions I have 
come to put to you, not only concern my own affairs, but 
also yours. May I ask some very strange things without 
offending you before I have time to explain?” 

Mr. Hazeldean, patting softly the arms of his easy-chair, 
stared at his visitor in wonder. 

What can you be referring to?” said he, good-humoredly, 
^^^Fm quite sure I have never been connected with you 
in business or pleasure — wish I had. Question away. 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


69 


Captain Drummond; Fll answer anything you like — about 
my own matters, you know/^ 

The poor captain looked anxiously at the good face oppo- 
site him, and tried to recall Mr. Wynde’s instructions in 
finesse; but, becoming more confused the longer he deliber- 
ated, he flung poMcy to the winds, and stood revealed, a 
guardian in search of a missing ward. 

He gave a brief account of the lady’s disappearance, their 
exertions in every direction, their utter want of an object 
of suspicion except the barren proof of the carriage which 
Alexander Buccleugh was now tracing to its source, and 
lastly, Mr. Spires’ anecdote about Buckle’s stables. 

At this point Mr. Hazeldean, who had been listening with 
grave attention, suddenly bent forward in his chair, his 
bronzed countenance showing unmistakable signs of uneasi- 
ness and agitation, and with increasing anxiety he heard to 
the end of the captain’s disclosure. 

Captain Drummond made that end with the significant 
words: 

^^Now, Mr. Hazeldean, by the grief of her sister, and the 
despair of her promised husband, I adjure you to tell me all 
you can about that drive your brother took on Tuesday 
afternoon. A few words may clear him completely from 
suspicion, a few words. may fasten suspicion upon him; but, 
remember, if these words are unspoken, it is you who will 
doom an innocent family to a torturing mystery and dread. 
Of my own feelings I cannot speak. This is the bitterest 
blow I have ever received. The harder to bear, that it has 
been dealt in the dark, and by a power I cannot trace.” 
‘^Captain Drummond,” returned the agitated lawyer, 
how shall I answer you? Every word you have said bears 
heavy significance to me. I dare not let my thoughts take 
shape. I warn you, you are, as far as I can judge, on the 
brink of a dreadful discovery, if, after comparing notes, we 
can agree on the identity of the ladies. Must I speak the 
words that may plunge you into a yet deeper misery than 
the harassing misery you now sutfer?” 

The captain’s face grew dark; he looked after Mr. Dazel- 
dean, pacing the drawing-room with gloomy eyes downcast. 

Mr. Hazeldean, I am a strong-hearted man, and I have 
weathered many a wild gale, but I am not brave enough to 
bear suspense, nor quick enough to fathom your dark mean- 
ing. Out with it, man; let us compare notes before we look 


70 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


ahead for breakers. You admit that you were with your 
brother that day at Bucklers stables?” 

The lawyer seated himself, crushing back the uneasy fore- 
boding in his breast,* and earnestly gave his testimony. 

Yes, my brother Moray and I were at these stables on 
the day you mention. Just as you heard, everything took 
place. Of course you wish explanations. You wish at 
once to prove whether the lady we spoke of, and the lady 
you are in search of, are identical. What is the name of 
your quondam ward?” 

Glencora Calvert — Lady-Bank,” said the captain. 

Again Mr. Hazeldean showed pained concern. 

My dear «ir, you will soon know why I am so reluctant 
to proceed,” said he. ^ 'There was a mystery connected with 
my brother’s friend which I never fathomed. May I ask 
you a few questions? Well, permit me: Has Miss Calvert 
been abroad on the Continent?” 

" She has not, sir. She staid quietly at home all winter.” 

" Has she been long engaged to the gentleman you spoke 
of?” 

" Above a year. What are you driving at?” 

"Wait a minute, my dear sir. Has Moray Hazeldean ever 
been at your residence? Try to remember a tall fellow, 
quite resembling me in face, but younger, a traveler and 
artist. He used to enter the highest circles unreproved, in 
search of female beauties for models; he was rather original 
in the art.” 

The captain deliberated a while, but finally answered in 
the negative. 

" I am sure no gentleman of your name visited the girls. 
The sisters were always very fond of me, sailor though lam, 
and told me about all their friends. JVotv what have you 
discovered ?” 

Mr. Hazeldean rose and went to the mantel shelf; he took 
down the gilded profile and^eld it before Captain Drum- 
mond’s horrified eyes. ^ 

"Is this like her — like Miss Calvert?” he demanded. 

The captain could only gaze at its perfect resemblance to 
Glencora, and mutely look into the troubled face of the 
lawyer for further explanation. 

"I see in your manner that this whimsical shade, which 
my foolish Moray prized above richest paintings, bears hea- 
vily in the evidence, I never heard the true history of this 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


71 


profile, but I know that Moray executed it himself, some- 
time in May — of course from the original, and caused his 
engraver to frame it so. I know he loved the woman whose 
features are covertly expressed there, and that he thought 
he had reason to keep her name, history, and residence a 
secret even from Mrs. Hazeldea^ and me. Now, Captain 
Drummond, you have told me enough to authorize me in 
relating Moray^s story in elucidation of Miss Calvert^s strange 
disappearance the night before the wedding. The two his- 
tories so curiosly linked by the eavesdropping of Bucklers 
groom may have no connection; for your sake I trust they 
have not, but facts look meaning. Four months ago Moray 
came home to Edinburgh from Venice. He had been 
spending, the winter in Venice, for the sake of his art, and 
because he was a sad malcontent in sobersided Edinburgh. 
When he came to us in April, we thought him not looking 
so well, and Mrs. Hazeldean prevailed on him to stay some 
months with us instead of living at a hotel, and she nursed 
him and cheered him up a bit. She was always very fond 
of Moray, and he told her many things he never thought of 
communicating to me. Of course Maisy, sensible woman, 
did not come with his confidences to me, and so I was a 
good deal puzzled sometimes to account for his varying 
moods. But when things got serious she told me what was 
the matter. 

One day Moray went to her in great excitement, saying 
he had seen an old flame of his, a magnificent creature, 
whom he had loved a long time, but who had just told him 
she was engaged to marry another. On hearing that, 
Moray had given her up, but that day she had sent for him, 
and told him that she had quarreled with her lover, and 
that she could never care for him as she had done, and that 
though they were still engaged, she could never fulfill the 
engagement, for she had every reason to believe that the 
union would not be a happy one. She implored Moray to 
save her from the dreaded marriage, and gave him encour- 
agement in supposing she truly loved him, and not her 
bridegroom. Mrs. Hazeldean advised him to wait a while 
and see if she was sincere, for such hasty decision on a 
Scotch lady^'s part was very unusual, and she thought the 
lady was very passionate, and too pronounced. Moray said 
something about her being very different from Scotch 
ladies, that she could he haughty as an empress to all but 


72 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


the one she loved, and that she melted to confiding sweet- 
ness to him alone. 

However, it appears that he did not take any decided 
step for some weeks, and then he came to me and told me 
some of his alfairs. He wanted to marry a lady whose very 
name, he said, must not be breathed to Maisy or me, until 
she had changed it to his name. It was her secret, and he 
had no right to peril her safety by divulging it, until he 
had a legal right to protect her from all future annoyance. 
Then he proposed to me that he should like to take a trip 
through the North, and he would endeavor to efface her 
image from his memory. We were gone on our trip during 
the latter part of June, and the first two weeks of July. It 
is ten days since we arrived home again. I think Moray 
would never have corresponded with the lady again, for we 
were at home a week before he did so — if she had not writ- 
ten to him last Monday. He came hastily to Mrs. Hazel- 
dean in the afternoon, and told her that it was useless for 
him to try to desert the woman who loved him, say what 
Phil would. (I am Phil, you see.) He would never be 
happy with another, and that spite of everything he would 
go and see her. That she had expected him to come to 
her every day since his return, but, as he had not done so, 
she was obliged to write for him to hasten to her side, and 
when he came that she had a dreadful story to tell him. 
Mrs. Hazeldean listened to the passages Moray read her 
from the young lady^s letter, but did not get the letter in 
her own hand. She describes it as written in a fiowing, 
graceful hand, very impassioned in style, and signed by 
rather a long name at the bottom of the page. She says 
her heart was wrung as he read; the brief wild words 
seemed to burst from the writers unhappy soul; but she 
again counseled Moray to give fair play to the former lover, 
who certainly had a prior claim to the young lady, and who 
perhaps loved her as fervently as Moray himself did. 

“This Moray passionately denied, saying that he knew 
enough of that dissembler to hate him as much as his poor 
friend feared him. However, he again consulted me when 
I came home. I took him in hand and used my utmost to 
dissuade him from marrying the unknown woman,' who was 
false to truth and honor, or she would never appeal to him 
for protection and not to her friends. 

“^Alas!^ sighed Moray, ^ my girl has no friends; they 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


73 


are all his friends, and therefore no protection to her.' 
Yet he had such regard to my wishes that he delayed 
going to seek an interview with her till next day. Tues- 
day, the 25th, at luncheon, a tiny envelope was brought 
him, which, when he opened and read, filled him with con- 
sternation, and he got up and pushed it into my hand. I 
only glanced once over it, and that once in much bewilder- 
ment; therefore I cannot repeat exactly the few words I 
read, but they were to the elfect that the crisis had come; 
that he had left her to her fate, and she would he lost to 
him forever. Once more she implored him, for the sake of 
their old days, to make one eifort to save her from her lover, 
who was on the point ’of claiming her, while she dared 
make no opposition. I remember well the initials at the 
end of the note — ycu may judge of the significance of the 
foregoing story when I tell you that they were ^ G. 0.^ 
Was this meant for Glencora Calvert? And is it possible 
that such things could happen to a young lady living in 
the close relations to you that she did, without either your- 
self, your sister, or her sister, Florice, ever obtaining one 
peep behind the scenes of that double-faced life? No, I 
donT think it possible, and yet the secret might lie with her 
lover. Shall I continue? I shrink from the succeeding 
events, as one might falter on the brink of a volcanic cal- 
dron. You who wait for my disclosure little know the aw- 
ful thought my words will give substance to. 

^AVell, sir, I shall briefly give you the rest. After I had 
read the unhappy lady^s last prayer from a doom she did 
not shape into words, I objected no nidre to my brother’s 
resolution to go to her, but also gave my promise that I 
would accompany him that afternoon to her residence, and 
make her acquaintence, with a view of offering her an asy- 
lum in my own house, if she was in personal danger from 
her lover’s cruelty, as Moray seemed to intimate. Mrs. Haz- 
eldean pleaded hard for the poor, friendless girl, while I — 
well, my heart seemed turned to flint whenever I contem- 
plated the union. I withstood it to the last, alas! I fear 
my dissuations proved too powerful for the hapless ^G. C.’ 
It was sharp on five o’clock when Moray and I entered 
Buckle’s stables, and all the time I had been preaching 
prudence to my brother. Something he said in the yard as 
the horses were being harnessed nettled me — something to 
the effect that he was quite ready to run off with her 


74 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


if he could not get her openly; something that showed he 
had one of his impulsive fits on; upon which I refused to 
accompany him that day at all, until he should change his 
mood. Poor Moray, in desperation, drove off himself, leav- 
ing me standing in remorseful amazement at the reality of 
his love for a woman I was in the habit of stigmatizing in 
my own mind as a false-hearted girl, who schemed for Mo- 
ray's wealth. How I repent of that injustice now, if injus- 
tice it was. Knowing that my brother’s blood was up, and that 
he was a haughty man to deal with when roused, I walked 
home, and confided the trouble to my wife, who, showing 
me my masculine want of tact, advised me to go back at 
half-past six o’clock and meet Moray, and make my peace 
with him, whatever he had done. Back I went at six to 
Buckle’ stables, and in half an hour Moray rushed in with 
the carriage. He was in a fearful state, white, breathless, 
and incoherent. I could hardly make anything out of him 
at first. At last it all came out. He had gone to her house, 
had not seen her, she was not there. ^ Her infernal lover 
has either put her out of the way, where she’ll tell no tales 
of him, or she has fled from Great Britain,’ Moray mut- 
tered to me, as we walked along the street. Startled, I 
asked why her lover should take her life, and Moray turned 
away his face and groaned; and then he said, " Perhaps she 
knew that of him that might cause him to lose his life, un- 
less he had the security of her love, and when he found out 
her love for me, there was but one chance of safety for him, 
through her sweet life. I’ll soon find her retreat, if she’s 
alive. I know where she went. But if my girl is dead. I’ll 
hunt her murderer, be the scent ever so cold; I’ll take it up, 
and I’ll hunt him to the death! 

^^He said much more in the same frantic way, but for- 
ever keeping her secret, and then, in spite of my prayers 
and entreaties, he bade me a long good-by in the street, and 
took another cab for the railway station. He did not come 
to see his sister-in-law, or the boys, much as he loves them, 
but I think he was almost beside himself at having lost her. 
His last words were, ^ When I find her I’ll bring her back 
to Edinburgh as my wife^ and we’ll live in the other half of 
your double house, Phil. If I don’t find her I’ll find hiniy 
and you’ll hear a fearful story then.’ With this my brother 
left me, and I am at this moment as ignorant of his next 
movement or his present abode as you are. Now, Captain 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


75 


Drummond, with our knowledge of Glencora Calvert^s dis- 
appearance, what in heaven^s name are we to think of all 
this?” 

Sitting as if carved in stone, the captain neither spoke 
nor moved for full five minutes after Mr. Hazeldean had 
concluded; but at last the creeping horror in his blue eyes 
gave place to a flash of scorn and incredulity. 

There is one fact, Mr. Hazeldean,” said he, huskily. 

Your brother's carriage was not seen on the road; McJen- 
net's carriage was. Two vehicles were not seen in Gower 
lane between five and six.” 

Mr. Hazeldean shook his head mournfully. 

^^It wonT do, sir,” said he. ^‘That won't stand for cir- 
cumstantial evidence. My brother's carriage might have 
gone through Gower lane a/Ur six. You know he was too 
late to find her. Examine your servants. Some one of them 
must have been in the habit of communicating from the 
lady to my brother. You'll find a screw loose there, no 
doubt. My dear sir, let us be calm and face the possibility.” 

The captain, white to the lips, stretched out his hands 
with a gesture of anguish. 

^^Mr. Hazeldean,” he uttered, solemnly; ^^you know the 
thought that has come into my breast at the relation of this 
story. You know the awful idea that is gradually gaining 
shape in your own; but don't — don't for heaven's- sake utter 
the wicked words that will condemn Alexander — that will, 
whether I will or not, poison my mind against the noblest, 
most truthful, and most fearless of men. Ah, what am I to 
do with this frightful suspicion ? As I speak it gains ground. 
Mr. Hazeldean, what do you think?” 

Mr. Hazeldean's averted face and his nervous manner too 
clearly spoke his distress, but he turned around with a 
calmer manner, and anxiously sought to soothe his disturbed 
visitor. ^ 

Captain Drummond, withhold your judgment, and stop 
your thoughts before they make another inch of progress. 
Let us wait for a letter from Moray. If ^G. C.' is alive he 
will find her. If dead, he will find /nm. You consider her 
identity as good as proved by the profile, the initials, the 
similarity of circumstance, and the hour of her disappear- 
ance. My advice is — wait and see. If your friend, Mr. 
Buccleugh,has not traced Glencora Calvert during his search 
this afternoon, we have lost all trace of her till Moray finds 


76 


THE BHIDE ELECT, 


it for us. Let us not put a foot on that darker road of foul 
suspicion, seeking the lost one, till we hear from him. Are 
we agreed ? 

Thank you; you have decided wisely for me. I shall 
do as you say. I put myself in your hands. Mr. Hazeldean, 
I am no longer master of my own motives and inclinations. 
With this fearful thing to battle against, I am not fit to 
decide on anything. You have been very kind, my dear 
sir, in taking part of the burden of this affliction off my 
shoulders. 

Captain Drummond rose stiffly from his chair, and shook 
his stalwart frame, somewhat as the kingly lion might throw 
off the deadly clinging snares which the tiny mouse had nib- 
bled through to give him freedom. 

‘^That ^wait^ may be a long one,^^ said he, as he shook 
hands at parting; but wefil wait it through, and if it leads 
to nothing, then Anthony Drummond will nerve himself to 
action.-’^ 

Both gentlemen^s hands shook a little as they clasped them 
warmly at parting. Each perceived in that strong clasp the 
whole-souled confidence of the other. 

“ Captain Drummond, when you need a friend, come to 
me,^^ said Philip Hazeldean, earnestly. Then they parted. 

And as Captain Drummond walked down the trim gar- 
den path, where the spicy pinks shed incense, and the 
Spanish rabbits capered on the green, his face was gray with 
an awful pallor, his lips compressed sternly. And when he 
reached the cab in its covert, and Mr. Wynde asked, and 
asked in vain, for the result of his consultation, he only re- 
plied with abstracted manner: 

‘‘ I have no further need of you, Mr. Wynde. Goto Mr. 
Spires and tell him I have failed.” 

And marveling much, and observing all he could, Mr. 
Wynde slipped away to do so. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MY LADY IN STATE 

There was a certain highland house which was falling 
sadly into misfortune. The principal family of the clan 
had dwindled down to one surviving representative, a 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


77 


female, the next heir to her being a cousin, also a woman. 
The only other scion of the declining family was an old 
man, whose three stout sons would inherit nothing but 
noble blood, with little gold to keep it warm, while the fair 
lady owned goodly gear. 

Lady Rosecleer StrathmoiVs horses might have been shod 
with gold, her hounds hung with silver bells, if she liked; 
for she owned half a county, and was sole heiress of her 
father^’s land and title. But Lady Rosecleer Strathmore 
hated her eerie highland towers with no common sincerity, 
and shunned her ignorant but blindly layal people with 
persevering ingenuity, and ever since she had become of 
age she had deserted Strathmore Tower and lived a gayer 
life about the queen in London. Perhaps she was right; 
for her only inducement to stay at home since her courtly 
old father's death was to queen it over three or four hundred 
peasants, ride out with the hounds and her stalwart cousins,- 
Gavin, Robin, and Kenneth Strathmore. And as soon as she 
understood that the only use she could make of herself, for 
the welfare of Strathmore, was to marry one of the cousins, 
in order to perpetuate the true Strathmore blood, my Lady 
Rosecleer flung averse looks at her fate, and, taking the law 
in her own hands, fled from Strathmore Towers, snugly 
ensconced in the heart of England's capital, defied such 
doom, and became a favorite among the English nobility. 
Lady Rosecleer Strathmore had not seen her birthplace for 
years, and only drew her revenues at proper intervals, leaving 
Gavin, Robin, and Kenneth to hunt and carouse, lord it in 
the county, and look out for some more willing bride. 

Kow there ran a certain doggerel legend in the revered 
annals of Strathmore, which every man, woman, and child 
of Strathmore blood had believed with awesome belief for 
generations — something to this effect, as written in obscure 
characters by one of their ancient seers: 

“ When Strathmore May sal wed ayont the Tweed, 

Then down fair Strathmore fa’s wi' hellish speed , 

But gif a Strathmore laird win Strathmore bride, 

Then back for aye dour ruin mirk sal bide !” 

The curse had fallen on the devoted clan — Lady Rosecleer 
had married an English lord! 

In frenzy, the friends of Strathmore prosperity looked for 
a Strathmore bride to drive back ''dour ruin" again, and 
thought of the next of kin, who had always lived in Aber- 


78 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


deen, in comparative obscurity, with grandparents on the 
maternal side. 

Casting about for deliverance, the third son of the house, 
Tyndale Strathmore, went silently from the highland castle 
to Aberdeen, told his niece of the misfortune, caused her to 
overcome obstacles, and bore her up to the savage hills of 
Sutherlandshire, to dispute the further possession of the 
title and lands with the recreant Lady Kosecleer. 

Thus, having raised a revolt, by providing the maid in 
the prophecy, they were resolved to hold their own against 
gay, careless, half-Englified Lady Kosecleer herself, who 
cared so little about her Highland property that she vowed 
positively that were it not that she longed to overthrow 
their silly, heathenish superstitions, and to tease her stupid 
old Uncle Tyndale, and her three Orsons of kin, she would 
contentedly wash her hands of gloomy Strathmore and its 
peat moors for the good of her Lowland cousin, Kilmeny. 

So, in the fourth week of sunny July, the new Lady Kil- 
meny, of Strathmore, came up from the town of Golspie 
and the stormy Moray Firth in an old-fashioned four-horse 
chaise, with Tyndale Strathmore sitting by her side, and 
his three sons, who had gone down to meet them, at her 
back. And so, in grand state, she entered Strathmore 
Towers, her hoary possessions, and after being closely scru- 
tinized by the ancient nurse (a grotesque-looking being, and 
a seer in her way, with an unintelligible accent), who pro- 
nounced her a true Strathmore, and kissed her hands, and 
blessed her head in solemn fashion, Lady Kilmeny betook 
herself to her private apartments, and locked herself in for 
days. 

Lady Kilmeny was a tall, pale girl, with an uneven tem- 
per, and a premonition of insanity in her wild, flashing 
eyes, if their blaze was not so intelligently accompanied by 
sarcasm. She came prepared to scorn them all, and, 
apparently, scorn them she did, right heartily, to judge 
from her invisibility. 

When at last she emerged from the gloomy state cham- 
ber, she moved slowly from room to room, eying the 
strange old-fashioned but gorgeous furniture of the lady^s 
bowers. She viewed them all with a faintly curling lip, 
and answered scant to the explanations and legends of the 
obsequious steward. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


79 


Where is my cousin's portrait?" she suddenly de- 
manded. 

Lady Rosecleer's, my leddy?" said the old retainer, 
fidgeting about. 

‘‘You knoio it is her portrait I mean!" exclaimed Lady 
Kilmeny. 

He drew his bent form up at her tone, so cold and pen- 
etrating Careless Lady Rosecleer, akin though she was, 
had never cowed him as his new mistress could do by a 
glance of her proud eye. 

“ Tyndale Strathmore, your noble kinsman, my leddy, 
caused it to be put away, when she married wrong, and 
forgot the key o' the wee tower chamber," he explained at 
length. 

“ My kinsman shall keep the keys of his own castle. If 
I am lady here, I shall see that my keys are mine," cried 
she, satirically. 

Then she strode to one of the long, narrow windows, and 
stood in the deep embrasure, and cast black, brilliant • eyes 
over the glimmering waves of Dornoch Firth, which washed 
even to the foundation of her storm-worn tower. 

And my lady gazed so long on the sun-kissed waters that 
they dazzled even her too brilliant eyes, and she turned 
away with a Jerk, as if she had to wrench herself from her 
reverie; the tears threaded on her heavy lashes. 

Lady Kilmeny was provided with a maid of Tyndale 
Strathmore's own choosing — a Sutherland shepherd's daugh- 
ter, who had been in the Lowlands, and spoke more intel- 
ligibly to the city-bred lady than any other of her surround- 
ings, and this maid, Mysie Carnaigie, robed her mistress 
every day in cloth of richest web, and starred her hair with 
iridescent gems, and sang brave songs of Highland glory 
in her ears, and strove by many a patient art to stir her am- 
bition for the welfare of her clan, and to heighten the bur- 
den of her loneliness; yet my lady frowned and pshawed, 
and turned her back on Mysie (Carnaigie, and would not 
seem content for all her splendor. 

But gloom as she would, and scorn as she could, my Lady 
Kilmeny could not be unlovely. Whatever she did only 
showed forth the true Strathmore blood, whose proud, heart- 
less bravery brooked no thwarting, for the Strathmores were 
ever like facts, 

.4 ^ 

“ Stubborn childs that downa be disputed.” 


80 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Strathmore Tower stood on a rocky promontory which 
ran out some hundred feet into the sea, and its gray walls 
rose sheer from the churning foam that had lashed in fury 
there for three centuries or more. The back of the castle 
was to the Firth, the frowning face looked over a sweet vale 
of undulating sheep pastures, and blooming heather hills, 
and golden bloomy knolls. 

The tower itself was a huge pile of ancient architecture, 
with a stone-paved court in front, well locked in from smil- 
ing verdure by a high dyke, battle-spiked on top, and pierced 
through the center by a low door, which, well padlocked and 
guarded by Strathmore vigilance, was never by any accident 
opened to the inmates of Strathmore Tower, without the 
special license of Laird Tyndale, self -constituted regent of 
the petty kingdom within. 

And though Lady Kilmeny had been brought over land 
and sea to wear away the title, and wrest the lands from her 
infatuated cousin, and to marry whichever of her three 
kinsmen could win her first, until possession of these ends 
was effected, the cunning laird still acted as chief of the 
clan, and kept certain indulgences in his own power to grant 
or refuse as his superior wisdom saw fit. 

It is needless to say that the high-spirited Lady Kilmeny 
was not informed of the matrimonial project. 

Having tired herself in her climbing from fioor to fioor of 
the lofty tower. Lady Kilmeny threw herself wearily on a 
tapestried couch, grimly carved in ebony gnomes, and gilded 
with the Strathmore arms, when Tyndale Strathmore was 
ushered into her presence. 

She answered his courtly salutation with a constrained 
politeness, and waited for him to speak; so, seeing there 
was no affability to be got from her, the old man took the 
straight-backed gothic chair she pointed him to, and, plac- 
ing it near her, he opened his business at once. 

He talked on her own matters first, and harangued about 
her former position and associations, until my lady’s dark- 
ening face flashed forth her wrath, and with a wild gesture, 
which made the hard noble quail, she sprang up and tow- 
ered over him, imperiously commanding him to leave the 
past alone — to deal with the present. The present, Laird 
Tyndale Strathmore! What have you do with my sacred 
past?” she said. 

Then her uncle passed on to the communication he had 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


81 


been trying to prepare her for, and informed her that Lady 
Eosecleer^s lawyer had written to him, denying the claim of 
Kilmeny Strathmore to title or estate, and challenging her 
to prove her right to either. 

The laird had written back to the lawyer, in Lady Kil- 
meny^s name, citing a clause in force in the laws of the 
clan, which disinherited any female who married beyond 
the border, and passing the title and lands to the next of 
kin, male or female. 

Lord McGillvray Strathmore had been the chief of the 
house, and the eldest of the three brothers. Lady Rose- 
cleer was his daughter; Colonel William. Strathmore was 
the second brother, and a wild do-nothing, who had joined 
the army, and lived in Aberdeen when married; Kilmeny, 
the proud and cold, ivas Ms daughter; Laird Tyndale, the 
canny, deeply blooded scion, was the youngest of these three 
brothers, the patriot for the haughty house, the schemer 
for its falling power, and the father of Gavin, Robin, and 
Kenneth, by a noble Strathmore lady, long since dead and 
in her vaulted tomb. 

Under the existing state of things, therefore, Kilmeny 
Strathmore was indisputably the next in succession, since 
Lady Rosecleer had openly thrown off the obligations which 
bound her to her clan, and had, in point of fact, washed 
her hands of them, and disinherited herself. 

These facts were rehearsed to the London lawyer in an- 
sw^er to his first communication. However, he had returned 
answer that, since the clan dynasty had vanished as com- 
pletely as the Thanes of yore, these laws made no difference in 
a matter of lawful and legitimate succession to title and 
property; and, say what they might. Lady Rosecleer could 
not be forced to give up her claims without a stronger 
case being made out. And accordingly the laird had come 
to break the matrimonial project of Lady Kilmeny, because 
that, if once married to a Strathmore, he could prove in 
every law-court in the world a prior right of Lady Kil- 
meny^s, which could not be gainsaid. So spake the Laird 
Tyndale. 

What right. Sir Tyndale demanded Lady Kilmeny, 
after his vague hinting and discreet half-disclosures. 

Ah! that is a mystery that it would not be politic to ex- 
plain, even to you. Lady Kilmeny, until things are made 
generally more secure; until you have a protector th^/t the 


82 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


law recognizes. Pick yon out a husband, my lady, from 
your own people, and then we can meet Lady Kosecleer and 
her lawyers on their own ground.'’^ 

Am I to marry a son of yours, then, and thus prop up 
the fortunes of Strathmore?'^ asked my lady, looking 
straight at him. 

He hesitated; then, provoked by the continued attention 
she gave his uneasy countenance, bowed silently. 

I V ill not litigate with Lady Kosecleer on such condi- 
tions," said she, coldly. You need expect nothing of this 
kind from me." 

‘^1 beg you to reconsider," he exclaimed, in consterna- 
tion. I assure you upon my sacred honor that you are 
the heiress of McGillvray, Lord of Strathmore. It is no 
quibble I propose." 

I will stoop to nothing," she said again, with icy lips; 

nothing, my good Laird Tyndale, that, in my humble ob- 
scurity, I would not have stooped to do. I refuse to dispute 
with my cousin without a legal and honorable right; and, 
if you please, do not hamper my liberty by any matrimonial 
. I enjoy my freedom better." 

) with a little laugh, which hurt the laird some- 
an tears would have done. He looked hard at 
her lithe form as she stood at a window, with her back to 
him, and her white face set to the blue main; and if visions 
of crushing that imperious creature into submission had an- 
imated him, those visions were now slipping away very fast, 
as he studied closely his lady-niece. 

A winsome lady, truly!" he mused, and a brave queen 
for dowie Strathmore — but what a spirit!" 

He retired to deliberate on the position she had taken, 
and to gather his counselors together. 

Presently when he was in the court he heard her light 
step behind him, and starting round to see what my lady 
meant, she swooped across the cold flag to him, and laid a 
slight, detaining hand on his arm. 

Sir, do not go to law with my cousin in my name, or 
in my interest — I forbid you to do so," said Lady Kilmeny, 
most earnestly. 

He shifted the little hand between his own and held it 
there. 

My lassie, it's an awful necessity to wrest the property 
from Lady Kosecleer," he answered, with great agitation. 


engagements 
She got uj 
how more th 


I'HE BRIDE ELECT. 


83 


Have ye so little care for your doomed house that ye canna 
even mind the prophecy ? Will ye no bend this lily hand, 
my May — Kilmeny, to save your heritage from the Doom — 
the Doom 

The last word was almost a cry; stout Larid Tyndale 
Strathmore was very pale and his eyes glinted wildly. 

She only looked her incredulity and waited for more. 

Standing by the little door with his cap off as if he was 
speaking of a sacred subject, he related the weird legend I 
have before written, and showed forth how Lady Eosecleer 
had brought the case down upon Strathmore, and that Lady 
Kilmeny could be the only savior to rescue it from utter 
destruction. 

My lady listened with pained countenance. 

Do you believe all this? asked she, slowly. 

^^Ah, Kilmeny Strathmore, well may I believe it; the 
very fact of a stranger possessing our ancient lands has 
come bitter as a curse on us already. When I vouch for 
your right to be what we would make you, will you not 
save us?^^ 

Tell me the right. 

I dare not, you must wait, Kilmeny. 

And / dare not put myself in a false position, Tyndale 
Strathmore, said she steadily. “1 understood differently 
when you brought me to Strathmore Tower; you said I was 
the only heir.” 

So you are. Lady Kilmeny — the only heir we will own.” 

I will not usurp my kinswoman^s place. Let me go 
free.” 

He dropped her hand in anger, and turned to unlock the 
little door. 

Tell me I may have Strathmore,” pleaded she again, 
clasping her hands, with a new humility in her mien. 

He paused — the key in his hand — looked at her and 
laughed sarcastically. 

^‘Do you want to go back to them all, puir, bairn?” 
sneered the laird. 

She threw up her head, her wild, black eyes flashing, and 
paced the narrow court like a young lioness. At last she 
curbed her emotion, and pacing quite up to him, forced a 
smile, and held out her hand: 

Forgive the thought,” she uttered, in a low, clear tone, 
shall never covet liberty for the weak reasons you ascribe 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


U 

to me. I am done with the past. Yet give me the key if 
I am lady here.^'’ 

She held out her hand with a cool, assured gesture — with 
such a Strathmore loveliness in her noble face, that her 
charmed uncle could scarce forbear giving her all she asked; 
but inborn policy prevailed, and he kept cautious posses- 
sion of the key, preferring friendly promises to acts. 

My lady, I beg you will not set your mind on having 
this wicket opened. You may go all over Sutherland, but 
it must be under my protection."'’ 

Sir Tyndale, am I a prisoner here?"" asked Lady Kilmeny, 
patiently. 

A prisoner! My dear niece you are the mistress of every- 
thing you see! "" 

‘‘ Then give me a mistress" power. I shall send for you 
when I wish to rule by proxy. I object to be locked with- 
in my kingdom."" 

He could no longer stand her direct sarcasm; without dar- 
ing a word, he passed through the door, locked it, and 
handed the key to the porter, who stood outside, mounted 
his horse and galloped off. 

A few days afterward the laird"s three sons rode over from 
their residence, which was half castle, half-hunting lodge, 
to make the further acquaintance of their lady cousin. 

She had to be ^xhumed from her lonely state-chamber, 
where she was, as usual, locked up, and after keeping them 
impatiently standing about the wide, dismal banqueting 
hall for half an hour, came gliding in like a ghost, and 
startled them with her noiseless step and white face. 

Major Gavin Strathmore, the eldest of the trio, was 
neither more nor less than a heavy dragoon, who had served 
abroad with distinction, and had come home on furlough, 
perhaps a few weeks ago. He was stupid and admiring, 
and Lady Kilmeny looked away from him to the next. 

Kenneth was a noble-looking fellow, whose intellectual 
expression invited longer attention. He had been through 
the Edinburgh University, and was a student, a poet, and 
a dreamer. He meditated taking orders, if ever the active 
incentive should come to move him. 

Lady Kilmeny sighed, and turned to her youngest cousin. 
And Robin, with his yellow hair blown in bronze masses 
over his brown brow, and his wide, blue eyes fastened on 
her, chewed the silky tops of his beard. 


TKE BRIBE ELECT. 


85 


Eobin was neither soldier nor scholar, and had never 
crossed Dornoch Firth, nor roamed out of sight of the 
Benmore of Assynt; but he was mighty in boating, fishing, 
deer-hunting, and good-fellowship, in scaling mountains, 
and horse-racing, in winning the rough fishermen's hearts, 
and in flirting with the apple-cheeked, azure-eyed belles of 
Golspie village. 

And withal, a freer hand or a more single heart never 
gave friendly grip or beat for fair fame than gallant Eobin 
Strathmore's; and Lady Kilmeny eyed him long, and turned 
away her head to smile bitterly. 

"'Does my lady — aw — Cousin Kilmeny — hem — like 
Strathmore Tower?" quoth stupid Gavin, marshaling in 
civilities. 

"I have great cause to like it, cousin major!" breathed 
the lady's curling lips. 

" If you would tell us any of your tastes or favorite pur- 
suits," said Kenneth, gently, "there's not one of us but 
would do his utmost to amuse you in your lonely state." 

"Ha! Cousin Kenneth," she ejaculated, with a curious 
self-disclaim, "you shairteach me oblivion; you shall show 
me Lethe's stream, that I may drink, and sleep forever. 
And if " 

"I'll show you something better," interrupted Eobin, 
with small ceremony. " You shall learn to shoot game, and 
ride through rough woods. I've always heard my Cousin 
Kilmeny was a sickly lass, but, faith, she's only fit for a 
winding-sheet. What's wrong with you?" demanded bold 
Eobin, standing over her. 

" Will you — will you do that?" cried Lady Kilmeny, with 
bell -like voice. " Then, Eobin, I'll go with you. I'll be as 
happy as I can with you. Oh, don't look distrustful," she 
said to the other two, who glanced at each other; "I'm not 
going to beat an ignominious retreat, and I'm not going to 
run off with Cousin Eobin; so spare your jealousy, gentle- 
men. But, oh, to drink in the free, salt breeze, and to 
wade in unimprisoned fields of clover, and to think I am 
again a little child in summer prime — oh! oh!" 

Lady Kilmeny was pacing to and fro, murmuring this 
rapidly and incoherently, as if she had forgotten their pres- 
ence. She clasped her hands in momentary ecstasy at her 
concluding interjections; then they fell apart, her arms 
hung dejectedly, her head drooped. 


86 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Ah, me!^^ she sighed, almost inaudibly; summer might 
have been sweet to me! Can I dare to think of sweetness 
now?'’^ 

She left them abruptly, and did not appear anon, as they 
expected, but, with unwonted politeness, sent down Mysie 
to invite them to refresh themselves ere they departed. 

Certainly, my lady was not fond of conquest. 

The three were clanking about the chilly hall, talking 
about her, when she tripped down the stairs again to them, 
a long cloak fastened at her throat, her bonnet on her 
head. 

“Is Cousin Robin waiting for me?^^ cried the bell-like 
voice. 

“What? YouTe going out exclaimed the nonplused 
cavalier. 

“ Yes, with you. ShaVt I be well guarded ?^^ 

“My Lady fclmeny,^^ grumbled rough Gavin, “Tis not 
for dainty dames like you to foot it, with stalwart men, 
among the peat moors. 

“You say Tm fit for a winding sheet,” cried my lady, 
blazing up. “Well, blame deadly Strathmore prison, if I 
die for want of heave Ws air.” 

“You shall go!” said Robin, with melting mood. 
“ Youfil never die, by locking up, my bonnie May.” 

And she went, as she had fully intended, when she first 
saw their faces; and as my willful lady always seemed to 
have had her own way. 

Gavin, Kenneth, and Robin Strathmore followed in her 
train, as meek and pliant as servitors ought to be; and, 
scornfully laughing at them, she passed through the ret- 
icent gate, now open for the first time, to release her from 
her grandeur. 

The lovely vale was gemmed with gowans and buttercups, 
and the clouds threw fleeting shadows, wave-like, over the 
golden grain that lined the valley slopes, and my lady drank 
in through eyes and parted lips the loveliness and the odors, 
and trembled in every limb; and as they strolled slowly 
along the river-bank, their backs to the sea, she melted to 
womanly playfulness for Robin Strathmore, and drew 
sudden shouts from all the simple three by her sharp-edged 
wit. 

She sent Major Gavin a mile up the height for a cluster 
of ruby fruit which she admired on a rock above herj she 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


87 


sent the gratified Kenneth hack to Strathmore Tower for 
her parasol — ^‘he was to bring it in his own hands but 
she only asked a little favor of Kobin — to climb a tiny 
bramble knoll, and bring her the wild roses clustered on its 
crown. 

And no sooner had Kobin sprung three steps from her 
side than, measuring with eager eyes the distance between 
herself and a shepherd down the valley, my Lady Kilmeny 
fied like a fawn toward him, faintly hailing him to come 
to her. 

But the little bird might as easily flutter into free ether 
out of one of Robin^s bird snares as my lady hope to escape 
his eye. In a moment he was at her side, his arm thrown 
round her panting form, his hand drawing a letter from her 
trembling clutch. 

‘^My lady, is this honorable?” questioned Robin, sternly. 

Oh, let me send it! See — it is only to a woman!” she 
whispered, with mournful appeal. 

He would not look at the address. 

I am not your inquisitor, Kilmeny Strathmore,” replied 
he, angrily; ^^only tell me that it is not a letter relinquish- 
ing everything to Lady Rosecleer.” 

^^No, Robin.” 

^‘Then, by heaven, you shall send it, my bird! Here, 
McBain!” and the gallant young hunter gave it to the shep- 
herd, with directions to mail it at Golspie immediately; and 
as he shuffled away to his hut, to send one of many heather- 
headed juveniles to tend his sheep, proud Lady Kilmeny 
clasped her cousin's arm with her two sweet hands, and 
said: 

Heaven bless you, Robin!” 


CHAPTER IX. 

A LIGHT FROM THE PAST. 

Yes, the captain was changed; this catastrophe had 
seriously unnerved him; his buoyant, sanguine tempera- 
ment seemed to have received a death-blow, and he was 
no longer the same man. 

His bright blue eyes were clouded with an habitual gloom 


88 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


and unrest; his cheery smile came rarely now, and his gay, 
enthusiastic spirit had changed to one of silent vigil and 
austerity. Even his present position beneath the wavering 
beeches expressed mightily the secret influence of that bale- 
ful sorrow. The downcast attitude, the head leaning deject- 
edly upon the gnarled tree root, the anxious, abstracted gaze 
over the sunnily flecked leaves, the indifferent air with which 
he slowly puffed his favorite Havana — all bespoke Anthony 
Drummond as a changed man. 

^^And all since that one day, too,^^ thought Mrs. Ella- 
thorne, as she watched him from the window. ‘‘^He did 
not seem so discouraged until the day they gave up the 
search. He^s been so different- since — so morose and gloomy.” 

Mrs. Ellathorne^s soliloquy was here interrupted by her 
seeing the captain turn his eyes toward the avenue gate; 
then rise slowly and pitch his cigar into a tulip plantation, 
and walk away hurriedly across the lawn and through the 
trees at the end, into the ^Miigh garden” (so called from its 
high stone wall), whose gate he shut behind him with a 
clang. 

Presently the lady heard a step in the gravel, and rising to 
look, she beheld Alexander Buccleugh. 

Come in, come in, Alexander,” said Mrs. Ellathorne, 
meeting him on the portal, with kindly eyes and welcoming 
face. ^^WeTe lonely enough here, and you are worse in 
Dowie Denburn. Come in and stay with us this evening; 
youTe just from the Bank?” 

No, I have not been at the Bank to-day,” answered the 
young man, sitting down and slowly wiping his pale, weary 
face with his handkerchief. 

^^Poor fellow!” sighed his friend, looking at him, sorrow- 
fully. Business doesnT bring much comfort to you.” 

I was over at Dysart again to-day,” said Alexander Buc- 
cleugh, speaking out of a reverie. 

Mrs. Ellathorne turned from him, shaking her head. 

^^What is the use, Alexander,” she repeated. ^^You 
have been there three times now, and to no purpose; you 
have been wandering about day after day, neglecting your 
business, and wearing your energies down, in vain, aimless 
searching. What do you expect, Alexander? Do you be- 
lieve our poor girl could be within Edinburgh, or its en- 
virons, and not come home to the family? You are doing 
her an injustice by your expectations.” 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


89 


not Glencora; it^s the clew — the cUio T muttered 
Alexander, clasping his brow between his hands. How 
can I rest in peace while those officers waste their time in 
silly investigations? And my girlie, my bride " 

Here he broke down, and hitter, scalding tears forced 
themselves between his clenched fingers. He turned away, 
and bowed his head upon the window sash. 

Whist — whist, my hoy!” said Mrs. Ellathorne, laying 
her hand on his arm, with a trembling, eager gesture. 
^^God knows, your heart is overladen enough; hut you do no 
good' by this pining after her. Be advised by me, Alexan- 
der; wait and see — wait, as Anthony is doing.” 

^^And what is he waiting for?” said Alexander, chafing. 

Is it to lose the last chance that activity might have 
brought us?” 

Mrs. Ellathorne sighed. 

Truly, Alexander, I don’t rightly understand the cap- 
tain’s mind myself,” she said. “ He was not wont to lay 
down his oars when the breakers were roaring; but I know 
he has reason for this waiting. He always says he is ‘ biding 
his time.’” 

Where’s Florice?” Alexander asked. 

She went over to Nurse McGowan’s this afternoon, in- 
tending to lighten her loneliness somewhat. She’s down 
with the rheumatism, poor body, you know.” 

And Jessie?” 

wonder you did not meet her; she went into town 
about an hour since on some little business. You’ll stay 
with us this evening?’^ 

^^No, Mrs. Ellathorne, I have not come to stay to-night. 
I — in fact I am going to Aberdeen to-night, and may stay 
away some little time. May I see the captain? I thought 
I saw him on the lawn, as I entered the gate. Where has he 
gone?” 

/^ril send for Anthony; he’s in the high garden.” 

Mrs. Ellathorne stepped to the door, called up a servant, 
and dispatched her with the message, and turned again 
with a distressed face to her visitor. 

Why should you go to Aberdeen? Oh, Alexander, be 
guided by me,” she entreated; ^^it’s an ill life to lead, this 
wild chasing after nothing. Wait until there is some sort 
of trail to follow; then, at it with a fresh heart!” 


90 


TBE BRIDE ELECT. 


Alexander's face flushed, his right hand clenching vehe- 
mently. 

^'Mrs. Ellathorne,^^ he said, slowly and sternly, ^‘1 have 
suffered perhaps the bitterest pang a man can suffer, and 
live — the utter spoiling of every heart-hope — just when its 
perfection was mine; my life and my strength were bound 
up in that girl — my faith in her was absolute — my love for 
her to all eternity.' And now, Mrs. Ellathorne, when she 
has been torn from the very arms which in a few hours 
more would have had the right to guard her from all the 
world — now my life is a blank — my existence is superfluity 
— unless spent in her service. My friend, I will never wait 
— never rest — never cease my quest, until I have found 
either my promised wife — or vengeance. I have said!^^ 

Standing with his head crested, his blue eyes gazing up- 
ward to the sky, his right hand pointing to a vignette oil- 
painting of his own vanished bride, smiling graciously 
down upon him — he looked like some devotee of old, swear- 
ing by the shrine of his Madonna to lay his life at her feet; 
and as his friend listened and looked, a trust — steadfast 
and unfathomable — entered her soul; a trust in this man, a 
sure belief in his integrity. 

A shadow passed the window, and presently Captain 
Drummond entered, throwing his hat upon a chair. 

The captain^s fearless, open face was cloudy and doubt- 
ful; he returned his visitor's salutation with a stern kind 
of abruptness; then as suddenly caught the offered hand, 
and griped it cordially. 

^'Good-day to you, Buccleugh man,^^ he cried; ^^youTe 
not looking well. What^s the matter now?^^ 

Nothing more than usual, captain," answered Alex- 
ander, subsiding into his normal state of calm and gloom. 
^'Men donT thrive on my mental fare, would you think? 
I’ve just called in, captain, to speak to you about my next 
move. That Forsyth man has been preying on my mind 
for the last few days. Who’s to know that he is a perfectly 
innocent party? Anyhow, I’m off to Aberdeen by to-night’s 
train to see for myself. I have doubts as to those de- 
tectives’ efficiency.’’ 

^ ‘^^To Aberdeen, hey?’’ cried the captain, quickly and sus- 
piciously. ^^Buccleugh, are you sure that you intend to 
come back?’’ 

Alexander seemed not to notice his friend’s cool tones. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


91 


He gazed drearily up at Glencora^s fair, unconscious face 
smiling down upon him. Faith he said, with a bitter 
laugh, ^^if I don^’t hear of her there, I scarcely care whether 
I come back or not. Edinburgh is hateful to me.^^ 

Captain Drummond stared at him hard, his cloudy brow 
wavering between conflicting opinions. At last he sprang 
up and grasped his friend^s hand. I wish to God!^" he 
cried, and then he cooled; I wish, Buccleugh,^^ he soberly 
concluded, that we knew which were friends and which 
were foes in this unhappy business. ^Twould be an awful 
thing to pitch on the wrong man. 

Ifll find the right man,^"* smiled Alexander, grimly. ^‘1 
am going to hunt up and down the earth until I find the 
right man.^^ 

Drummond hastily turned away, and, with a lowering 
brow, turned his back upon the avenger, thus boldly an- 
nouncing himself. But then, while his great heart was 
swelling and burning with its secret repression of dark 
thoughts, his eyes moistened with a starting tear, as Florice 
-wan-faced, sweet-faced Florice — tripped across the lawn, 
with her basket on her arm, and up the steps. She put 
down the basket when she saw Alexander, and came to his 
side with a tender, wistful confidence of a favorite sister. 

Well, dear Alexander, she murmured, you haven’t 
been in to see us these three days, and why?” 

I’ve been away, Florice; I’ve been away from Den- 
burn,” answered the young man, smoothing her brown hair 
with gentle hands, ‘^and I’m going away again. Bid me 
Heaven’s speed on my journey, Florice.” 

I will, but I fear ” She stopped, and her bosom 

heaved with fast coming fears. Those little excursions no 
longer inspired her with excited anticipations of success. 
They seemed but an assurance of the lost one’s evil fate. 

fear to have you disappointed again,” she contrived to 
say. 

How intently Captain Drummond watched the two, as 
they thus spoke together! He leaned forward in his chair, 
and his hands clutched its arms, as his eyes traveled from 
face to face, and studied each change discernible in Alex- 
ander’s. Who could tell what vehement emotions were surg- 
ing through his heart? Not Mrs. Eilat home, though here- 
tofore she had read her brother’s frank soul like sunbeams 
in a shallow brook, 


92 


TEE BBIDE ELECT 


Why did his brow darken when Alexander bent over the 
little Florice to touch her brow with his lips? He seemed 
unkind to Alexander of late. Then why did his face flush, 
and his lips tremble, as he sprang implusively to his feet 
and cried: 

""Go then, Alexander, go man, and God speed you! I 
toill believe you are doing your best, honestly and fairly. 

The two men griped each other’s hands — one with 
flushed, distressed, wistful glances; the other with a calm, 
open look of friendship and farewell. 

"" Good-by, Mrs. Ellathorne,” quoth Alexander, with a 
kindly pressure of her hand. "" Good-by, Florice; keep up 
a good, brave heart, dear girlie. If I meet Jessie in the 
lane. I’ll bid her good-by myself ; if I don’t, you will for 
me, Florice.” 

And then he went away without a backward look, and 
soon left Lady-Bank behind him, and Captain Drum- 
mond strode to the window and stared after him until he 
was out of sight, and then he stared at a shimmering 
white orchis, down the leafy vista, with blank, questioning, 
gloomy eyes, and his face became stern and hard. 

When, perhaps, about fifteen minutes of his reverie had 
passed, he was recalled by a little hand touching lightly his 
clenched fingers; then a soft little palm slid into his loosen- 
ing fingers. 

""Have you nothing to say to Florice to-night?” 

""Nothing to say? Yes,, my girlie, yes,” with along, 
heavy sigh. "" Come here and sit by me while I tell you 
what I’m going to say.” 

The sun was sinking low, and slant rays of mellow gold 
glimmered in through the honeysuckle wreaths, and the 
two were alone, in the radiant effulgence. 

"" Girlie, you would confide everything to me — would you 
not?” 

The white little face of Florice looked up into his, tender 
and sweet in the gentle ray. 

""Everything, Anthony.” 

""Why, dearest, because you trust me?” 

""Yes, guardie, that is why.” 

"" And you know that, next to the cause of Eight, your 
happiness is most precious to me?” 

"" I truly believe it, Anthony.” 

The sweet little love-lesson is over; the pupil has learned 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


93 


it well. Still, the master wavers and hesitates; there^s a 
harder lesson coming; there are questions which he shrinks 
from, but cannot evade. 

Girlie, begins Captain Drummond, at last, with her 
head held to his breast by his broad hand, “ do you ever 
remember your sister and Buccleugh having a quarrel — a 
disagreement about anything?” 

The wondering little face was lifted up, and Florice 
looked at him in dismay. 

Does my promise to be open and true to you extend so 
far as that would extend?” 

Girlie, it does — it does! Was there a quarrel?” 

There loas, Anthony. But I cannot tell even you what 
I was not authorized to disclose either by Glencora or Alex- 
ander. ” 

Tell me, I adjure you, Florice!” he exclaimed, strain- 
ing her closer, while his heart beat with ungovernable ex- 
citement. Tell me, for the love of your lost sister — for 
the love of purity and truth! Tell me, for the love of 
Heaven, Florice, all you know about any quarrel between 
Glencora and Alexander Buccleugh!” 

It was completely made up since, guardie. Need I 
tell of an old love difference?” 

It may bring her back to your side, Florice, to tell it 
now.” 

‘^Anthony, if it was my own fault, I would confess all to 
you; but another’s ” 

Oh, Florice! Florice! how can you say you trust me?” 

^‘I do, guardie, absolutely and completely! After all, 
why should I hesitate? This disagreement only redounds 
to Alexander’s honor, and I must say poor Glencora was a 
little too proud. About six months ago, you know, Alex- 
ander was across to Ayr, seeing about his cousin Jessie’s 
property, which she had just come into. She was twenty- 
one last January, and her mamma hasn’t much idea about 
business, as Alexander has always had to manage all for 
them. You know, when he returned, he brought Jessie 
with him, to introduce her to us, and, as she soon became 
very fond of Glencora, they were quite intimate together. 
How it. happened, I can’t exactly remember. But we were 
all sitting in Nurse McGowan’s one afternoon, and she left 
us, to run across the meadows for milk from Farmer 
Brownrigg’s, to make us drink, when Jessie began talking 


94 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


about how she came into her heirship; how such great 
wealth became hers, and she laughingly said: 

Miss Calvert had not proved so charming, I would 
only have been half as rich/ 

^^Glencora asked, in astonishment, for an explanation. 

^ Is it possible,^ cried Jessie, Hhat my Cousin Alexander 
is so noble as never to mention the sacrifice he has made 
for your sake?’ 

^ I have heard of no sacrifice,’ answered my sister, quite 
seriously. 

Then Jessie Buccleugh told how her whimsical uncle 
divided his fortune equally between his nephew and niece, 
on condition that they married each other. 

^But,’ said Jessie, laughing, ^as my uncle was a viru- 
lent old bachelor, and knew nothing about such things, he 
thought to make his money-match sure, by giving me all 
the fortune, should my knight prove errant. Of course, it 
Just happened as stupid old know-nothing might have 
known. Alexander was the dearest and kindest of cousins, 
always taking care of mamma and me, and managing 
mamma’s little property for her like a son, but never 
dreaming of becoming one. I think at one time he did 
get up the intention to begin considering the question, but 
Just then the Aberdeen branch of his bank sent him as 
manager here, and he bought Denburn, and — met his 
affinity, as the story-books say, which means that he fell in 
love, as only a noble, high-minded, single-hearted gentle- 
man would ever do, with you, my beautiful friend, and 
never even mentioned the seventy thousand pounds he was 
giving up for your sake.’ 

^^When Jessie finished this, she threw her arms round 
Glencora and burst into tears. 

^ Oh, my dear friend!’ she cried, in her queer little in- 
nocent way, ^you have got the purest of men to be your 
slave ! May you only be as good as you are lovely, for Alexan- 
der is worthy of perfection!” 

I now remarked, with a little alarm, that Glencora’s face 
was quite pale, as if the disclosure Just made was an exceed- 
ingly painful one to her, and I knew enough of her lofty, 
dignified spirit, at times, to fear the manner in which she 
would take it. She looked in Jessie’s face, and asked 
steadily: 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


95 


‘‘ ‘ Did Mr. Buccleiigli act honorably toward you, Jessie, 
to violate the contract thus made?’ 

Oh, yes, indeed,’ cried Jessie, vehemently; ^he made 
no promise whatever, and broke none, but has been a most 
generous protector to me all his life. Why should he be 
blamed for not loving me?’ 

‘ But you, Jessie — has he been generous to your feel- 
ings?’ insisted Glencora. 

And here Jessie burst out laughingly through her tears, 
and said: 

^ Will it do, sweet cousin mine, that is to be, to declare 
that I’ve never had a heart-pang in my life, and that I’m 
proud and honored to know that the man whom I revere 
above all other men on earth, has won the heart of the love- 
liest girl I ever saw?’ 

^MVell you know, Anthony, how proud and haughty 
Glencora could be when her blood was up. I could never 
quite understand her then; it seemed as if she was lifted 
above my head by some cause invisible to me, and at such 
times I often wondered how we came to be of the same stock; 
and she took this announcement of Alexander sacrificing 
his wealth for her very bitterly to heart, although she 
finally strove to conceal her feelings. 

Just then we saw Alexander coming through the lane 
to join us in the cottage, and Jessie, still laughing, and not 
believing in Glencora’s real displeasure, went to the door 
and cried out to him: 

‘ Come, old cousin, there’s a fair lady here wants a cer- 
tain knight to sound his own trumpet to her. Come and 
tell her the story of the legacy !’ 

“ Then she ran fleetly past him, laughing merrily, and 
continued through the meadow until she met the nurse. 

I don’t think Glencora would have mentioned her cause 
of anger to Alexander if Jessie had not called his attention 
to it, but when he came up to her, and in his usual open, 
unsuspecting way addressed her, she suddenly turned white 
with extreme emotions, refused him her hand, and walked 
with him down through his own grounds into the shrubbery. 

^‘1 thought it was the most fortunate thing that could 
have happened that she should meet Alexander then, for I 
remember, though she was lofty and imperious as a queen, 
when she considered an injustice to have been done to any- 
body, yet she was always the first to succumb before integ- 


96 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


grity, and the most open to forgiveness, and reconciliation 
of any one I ever saw; and I also put full trust in Alexan- 
der's power over her affections, so when I saw her again, 
about two hours after, I put the extreme gravity and silence 
which enveloped her merely to the score of one of her fits 
of penitence, and forbore to question her, as I knew she 
would confide all to me in her own good time. 

You know, guardie, the next morning Jessie returned 
home to Ayr, and I accompanied her, to spend the winter, 
and the first letter Glencora wrote me gave me the deepest 
surprise and grief. She told me that Alexander and she 
had disagreed upon a slight subject; that her trust in him 
was shaken, and she would never marry a man who could 
lightly wear a woman^'s heart; a new one displaced by the 
old. That was- all she said upon the subject, except to re- 
quest me to make no mention of the estrangement to J essie, 
as she might blame herself for being the indirect cause, 
‘ and attempt to patch up a reconciliation,^ my sister said, 
which in her present state of feeling would be but a hollow 
pretense. I cannot tell what sorrow that letter caused me, 
but I told my grief to no one, only strove hard in all my 
letters to Glencora to preach moderation and forgiveness. 
She took not the slightest notice of my entreaties, except 
now and then to take occasion to thank me for 
my warm interest, and gradually the subject died out be- 
tween us. Judge, then, of my joyful surprise, when in May 
she wrote, * Alexander and Glencora are once more one in 
heart; they propose to become one in name in July, and 
they would like their dear Florice home immediately, to 
participate in their happiness.^ You know well, guardie, 
how happy we have all been since then; nothing but the 
most perfect love existed, or seemed to exist between Alex- 
ander and Glencora. I remember how dear Alexander told 
me, the evening after my happy return home, how Glencora 
had held out like a true empress, as she was in nature, 
against the shadow of injustice in her devoted subject. 

^ She’d never have yielded one jot of her high-souled 
ideas,’ cried Alexander, Mf she hadn’t heard a rumor of 
an attachment between cousin Jessie and some nice young 
woer from Ayr, and all on a sudden I surprised her sweet 
soul into sudden passion, and she melted into her lover’s 
arms at last, my own beautiful, pure Glennie again.’ 

I was so contented in their perfect reunion, that I 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


97 


laughingly declared my sister should never hear from me, 
whether Jessie had accepted or rejected her Ayrshire ad- 
mirer, and Alexander laughed, too, at that, but didn't ask 
me either. And after that all went on smoothly and 
lovingly until — well, perhaps, I need not mention it. " 

Until what, Florice?" 

The captain had listened all through this commonplace 
tale with the most intense interest; his face was pale, his 
manner depressed. 

Until what, girlie?" he breathed again. 

'‘Until the Tuesday before the wedding, about eleven 
o'clock, the mantua-maker came with two dresses which 
Glencora was to fit on, and send back for the trimmings. 
None of us could find her, for she had gone down the 
avenue with Alexander, who was on his way to his business, 
about half an hour before. I ran up to the dressing-room 
for my hat, which I knew was on the table there, intending 
to go and look for her, but to my surprise, I found her in a 
very unexpected manner. She was lying on the couch, 
with her face buried in the cushions, sobbing violently, and 
her desk was before her, with a note half written lying 
upon it." 

" A note, Florice?" repeated the captaiu, huskily. 

"Yes, guardie, a few words commenced on a sheet. 
When I saw her I screamed and ran forward to console her. 
'What has happened, sister?'! cried. She raised herself 
and looked at me with what I thought a deeply remorseful 
look through her tears." 

"‘Nothing, Florice, dear,' she answered me. 'I am 
going to put it right presently.' 

" So saying, she composed herself, drew the desk toward 
her, and dashed off a few more lines, kissed the name half- 
playfiilly, half-sorrowfully, and directec^ it. I made sure 
that it was some little love token between her and Alex- 
ander, so I was watching her with admiring pleasure. 

" ' Now, sister, I am going to ask something of you,' she 
said, with a tremulous smile which somehow gave my heart 
pain to see on a bride-elect. 

" ‘ I'll do anything, Glencora, darling,' I said, trying not 
to cry, ' only don't — don't suffer grief so near your wedding- 
day, or I shall think you are regretting it.' 

" She kissed me on the brow tenderly, and smiled more 
cheerily. 


08 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


^ Never think that, Florice,' she said, ^ and don^t fret 
your loyal little heart over my petty sorrows — they are of 
my own making. Florice, I want you to say nothing about 
the silly exhibition I have made — the friends down stairs 
would think by far too much of a trifle that is past. Now 
run down, and Ifll compose myself and be with the mantua- 
maker immediately. Fll come in five minutes.'’ 

‘‘1 was leaving the room but she called me back with 
sudden eagerness. 

Oh, Florice,^ she cried, ^ has the post bag gone out 
of the hall?^ 

told her no, that it wasn’t half past eleven yet, and 
the boat had not gone down, then I joined them below, and 
in a few minutes Glencora came in as serene as ever, and 
seemed more than usually kind and sweet all day, and when 
the evening came, and Alexander came back from town, I 
felt quite sure of their heartfelt confidence in each other, 
by the way in which he greeted her, and drew her with 
him down the avenue, to speak to her alone.” 

There was a long silence after this relation. 

The dark was imperceptibly creeping in, and Florice 
suffered her head still to lie on the captain’s breast im- 
prisoned by his hand. 

That hand had grown cold, and the beating heart seemed 
almost to creep in muffled throbs, so indistinct had become 
its pulsations. 

W{js suspicion becoming assurance? Captain Drummond 
looked down at the quiet face of his little Florice ere the 
last glimmer of departing twilight vanished to ethereal 
gloom, and he found it a very sweet, brave face, with all its 
wan pensiveness — a face that he could safely trust for good- 
ness and for wisdom. 

''Florice,” he whispered, "they say that a pure woman 
always has an instinctive knowledge of the character of the 
men she meets. Tell me, then my girlie, if you wholly 
believe in Alexander Buccleugh?” 

The young girl started from his sheltering arm, and stood 
looking down at him with a flushing cheek. 

"Never breathe a doubt of Alexander!” she cried, 
spiritedly and vehemently. " I have that instinctive know- 
ledge of him that I would trust him. Anthony, I would 
trust him in the face of any temptation to retain his man- 
hood and his honor gloriously unsullied. Glencora may 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


99 


have erred. I know she was proud and impulsive, and 
very intemperate in a noble way, always sacrificing herself 
first, and I fear she did him injustice, as well as herself, in 
that quarrel, and in those tears, but he, solemnly I could 
swear it, Anthony, he was blameless.^^ 

Girlie, I wish I could believe with you.” 

Florice turned pale and regarded him fixedly. 

I will be Alexanders friend through all dangers,” she 
said, with a glittering eye, ^^and those who strike at my 
lost sisters betrothed, strike at my hearths warm blood. 
Anthony, I warn you!” 

Trembling, she turned away, and the captain^s swelling 
love for her strove hard with darker emotions. 

‘^ril bide my time,” he muttered. ^^Tll not be rash, 
but wait for assurance.” 

And then lights were carried in, and Mrs. Ellathorne en- 
tered and glanced at the grave guardian on the sofa, and 
the silent ward between the lace curtains of the window, 
with a comprehending look, and then an airy rustle was 
heard, and softly, with the heavy dew upon her golden 
hair and muslin robes, Jessie Buccleugh came tripping in, 
and the circle was complete. 


CHAPTEK X. 

THE KOSE IH BLOOM. 

Immortal music filled the air, crowds pressed forward — 
crowds that blazed into scarlet and gold at their edges; 
banners waved over the surging mass, and fair hands cast 
votive, fioral showers all adown the chain-guarded Queen^s 
Drive that wound at the feet of the Salisbury Craigs. Yet, 
sway as the murmuring throngs might, all faces turned to- 
ward one point — that point St. Margaret^s Eailway Station. 

The queen was on her way from Osborne to Balmoral, 
and meant to pass one night at her palace of Holyrood, in 
Edinburgh; hence the general holiday in the leal town, and 
the motley concourse in the Queen^s Park. 

There was a little group standing somewhat apart from 
the general throng, who gazed with the rest down the white, 
winding drive at their feet, to St. Margaret’s Station. 


100 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


There waited Morice Calvert and Jessie Buccleugh, each 
supported on the arm of Harold Russel. His open carriage, 
in which he had attended them from Lady-Bank, stood in 
the park at a little distance from them, while they, having 
walked to a' slight eminence of St. Anthony's Well, obtained 
a clearer view of the coming pageant. 

Florice walked by her friends almost silently, but Miss 
Buccleugh and Mr. Russel talked together, he at least with 
keen enjoyment. Why he loved this brusque sprite I do 
not know; certainly it was not because he had ever received 
encouragement to do so, for surely a more obtuse inamorata 
never overlooked man's homage. 

The few weeks that had passed since Florice had told that 
little history to Captain Drummond, had drawn them into 
full-lapped September; but, ah! what barren harvesting was 
theirs! Each of these there at St. Anthony's Well had felt 
the impress of the summer days, and which of them bore 
other fruit than bitter apples of Sodom? 

Harold Russel is no longer heart-whole, for he loves, and 
knows not whether such love will be his blessing or his 
curse; Jessie's smiles are fitful beams, that carry nothing of 
dawning hope for him. She is anxious, she is suffering, her 
spirits effervesce with foamy unsubstantiality, and sink to 
cold flatness; and young Florice droops with paler grace, her 
plaintive eyes replete with repressed consciousness of be- 
reavement, the new and pricking sense of Anthony's injus- 
tice. 

For her beloved guardian still waits, in mysterious pa- 
tience, some unknown disclosure, and still questions, in 
mysterious distrust, the good faith of Glencora's lover; and 
the generous heart of little Florice swells with sorrow and 
reproach at the outrage. 

Alexander had not returned to Edinburgh. With a 
pitiful persistence, he wandered to every conceivable place 
where the ghost of a hope could be traced. The detectives 
were at fault; if they worked at all, they worked in fruitless 
secrecy. 

Florice was aroused from her reverie by a loud, enthusi- 
astic cheer. 

Queen Victoria rode on her way, turning her gracious 
countenance from side to side, and wherever she fixed her 
blue eye, “God save the Queen!" would burst from the 
most undemonstrative lips. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


101 


The queen^s guards pranced before her and behind her; 
the lords and gentlemen of her waiting pressed around the 
royal carriage, where she sat with serene security, her con- 
sort by her side. Then followed the carriage with the 
queen’s children, the Princess Royal and the Prince of 
Wales, smiling, chatting, and bowing to the people; and 
after them the carriage of the queen’s ladies in waiting, 
four dames of noble birth. 

Florice trembles with excitement as her majesty passes, 
glancing up at the little group by the famous Well, and 
inclining her head to them, in reply to Jessie’s fluttering 
handkerchief and Harold’s lifted hat. Florice gazes after 
that benignant face and the gracious smile of the beloved 
Prince Consort as long as she may see them, and then she 
glances at the third carriage. 

And when her eye fastens on its occupants, the noble 
ladies of honor, her white face flushes a tingling crimson, 
her eyes dilate with amazed rapture, her lips seek vainly to 
articulate; she clings with both hands to Harold Russell’s 
arm; she shakes him in frenzy, and points to the slowly 
passing carriage. 

And Harold looks down, and Jessie looks down; and 
Jessie screams, in a piercing voice, that is drowned in mar- 
tial music, and clanging bells, and hoarse huzzahs: 

^^Glencora! Glencora!” 

And the four ladies of honor glance, like their royal mis- 
tress, from side to side, in the faces of the people, and the 
pageant winds proudly by, and the band marches, with 
blazoning music, after; and Florice is kneeling by St. An- 
thony’s Well, with shaking hands outstretched, with wild 
face, appealing in vain. 

Yes, Glencora’s image passed before their eyes — Glencora’s 
beautiful self, prouder, more majestic than ever, with never 
a cloud on that sunny brow to tell of a heart within. She 
has passed, all fair, and seeming happy, and her sister, her 
forgotten sister, breaking into a paroxysm of hysterical grief, 
has to be half-carried by Harold Russell down to his car- 
riage, Jessie following, with steps that never felt the 
ground. 

Sitting in the carriage, her head on J essie’s shoulder, her 
strength of mind wildly striving to retain its sway; the 
throngs gradually dispersing or galloping in equestrian 
ardor along the royal route, the crashing, exultant ‘^Queen’s 


102 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


March” fading into gentle harmony; then- Harold Kussell 
ventured to speak to Florice. 

‘"Miss Florice,” said he, gravely, “have you anything to 
advise — any course of conduct to suggest?” 

A quick thrill of agony shot through Florice^s heart; must 
she propose to pursue her sister into the garish splendor of 
her mysterious exaltation, and sue her to return to the 
humble station she had forsaken for that splendor? 

“ I have nothing to say; come home to guardie,^^ moaned 
Florice. 

Harold averted a stern face from the sight of Florice^s 
anguish. 

“ Shall we go to Holyrood, and demand the restoration 
of Miss Calvert?” said he. 

Quick, Jessie Buccleugh struck in: 

“ No one can claim Miss Calvert — she is twenty-four. 
Leave her alone. If she is our Glencora of old, she will 
come of her own accord to Lady-Bank; if she is not — if her 
desertion was voluntary — shall tve force her to return to in- 
sult the hearts she has outraged?” 

Yet bitter as were the words, her voice shook, her pitiful 
hands grasped the strained hands of Florice, her spirit died 
within her. 

“Oh, heartless Glencora! better you were dead than thus 
found!” thought Jessie, her heart sinking like lead as she 
remembered Alexander. 

They drove home in bitter silence. 

When Mrs. Ellathore came to the door to meet the young 
ladies, and saw in their troubled faces a reflection of the 
shock they had endured, she cried, in instant prescience of 
misfortune. 

“ What now, Florice? What have you heard?” 

Florice caught her, by the arm. 

“Send for guardie, quick, Mrs. Ellathorne. WeVe seen 
” the word died on her lips — she might not trust her- 
self to tell the tale that would influence the minds of her 
friends so justly against her sister. 

Mrs. Ellathorne, gazing vividly at that white face with 
its lights of sweet relief, and shadows of perplexed anguish, 
gathered a blessed moiety of the truth; she pressed her 
hand to her throbbing bosom, and tears rained down the 
livid cheeks. 

“ Heaven be praised!” she cried, nearly stifled with rap- 


THE BBIBE ELECT. 


103 


ture — my winsome lassie is no dead, but alive and well!^^ 
and she hurried to the librar}", where the moody captain, in 
distrustful seclusion, pored over Alexander's last hopeless 
letter. 

^ ^Anthony," said his sister, tremulously, ^^come here, 
Florice has come home with news." 

He had only to look at her, and he thrust the letter into 
his desk, and followed her to the parlor, where stood the 
three, silent and doubtful. 

Harold Eussell met the captain's penetrating glance with 
one of regretful sympathy, and at a sign from the watchful 
Jessie, spoke the words that Florice would not, the words 
that condemned Glencora Calvert. 

What we have to tell you is about the most unexpected 
thing you could hear," began Harold. Yet receive it as 
you may, we all have caused to be relieved from the dark 
phantom of dread that has haunted your hearth for nearly 
two months — the shadow of death. You have no longer to 
mourn your lost one's unknown fate; that should bring its 
own relief, bitter as may be the subsequent disclosures. As 
we watched the queen's cortege, we came upon a very strange 
sight — a sight of Miss Glencora Calvert herself." 

The good Lord be thanked!" broke piously from the 
very heart of the simple captain; his eyes beamed, he looked 
round at the shrinking Florice, and marveling at her tears. 

Tell me the rest, Russell, where did you see our girl?" 
asked the captain, wiping the gathering damp from his 
flushed forehead. 

Harold hesitated, glancing sadly at Florice. 

It is difficult to convey the intelligence without sound- 
ing your love for the absent lady, and causing you, perhaps 
unjustly, to judge her extraordinary conduct. In mercy 
to Miss Florice, I beg you will suspend all judgment until 
you will hear verbal explanations from Miss Calvert's own 
lips, and are assured that she is uninfluenced by any power 
not her own. She was in the carriage with the queen's 
ladies; we all saw and recognized her simultaneously; beau- 
tiful as ever, healthy and happy, as if she had never lived 
in Lady-Bank, or disappeared from it the night before her 
marriage." 

With blank faces. Captain Drummond and his sister 
stared at each other. 

^‘^Are you sure, sure, Florice?" cried the captain, step- 


104 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


ping to her, and raising her on one strong arm, that he 
might read the flinching eyes that fell in perplexity be- 
fore his. 

‘‘Oh, yes, indeed, guardie, I could not mistake my 
sister, murmured she. 

“I can^t believe such a miracle,” said the captain, in 
f much disquietude. “ Glencora Calvert was never the woman 
to forsake, deliberately desert her home and honorable be- 
trothed, distrust him as she might — and flying to England, 
at once install herself in such a wonderful position — she was 
neither an adventuress nor a hypocrite. Ah, I know this is 
only some curious resemblance; you have deceived .your 
selves, all of you.” 

“It was no resemblance,” cried Jessie Buccleugh, 
sharply; “ it was Glencora^s self. Miracle though it be, 
she has proved how cruel and how false woman^s heart 
may be!” 

“Do you cast a stone?” murmured Florice, mournfully; 
“you who love your cousin so fondly, can you condemn his 
bride, the woman he gave his love to?” 

Jessie started, grew pale as death, and caught at Elorice’s 
sleeve: 

“ I do not love Alexander in any way but as you do,” 
faltered she — “ as a sister; and only resent his betrayal by 
the one he trusted, as I resent your desertion by me who 
received your fondest devotion.” 

But Florice stood steadfastly before them all. 

“ Black as appearances may be against my absent sister, 
nothing but her own words will convince me that Glencora 
is not what I knew her to be — upright in heart, if at times 
hasty and haughty in deed. Oh, I pray you, don^t with- 
draw your trust from Glencora until you have heard her 
story from herself. Who knows what fatal agency may be 
governing her actions? Anthony, you won’t condemn her 
unheard? You will try to bring her back to me?” 

Her little hand pressing his arm, her vivid eyes appealing 
straight through his own to his yearning soul, she bowed 
him to her will, he looked at the child, and he crushed 
the treason in his heart. 

“Shall we go to Holyrood to-night, and try our best 
to obtain an interview?” suggested the patient captain. 

Her hazel eyes shone. 

“Yes — yes, guardie; let her but see her dearly loved 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


105 


Captain Drummond, and Clencora would leave a kingdom, 
if she had it, to put herself right in his eyes. And, 
guardie,” petitioned Florice, ^‘take me with you; she 
loved me.^' 

^^Good!” exclaimed Harold Russel, struck by the pro- 
posal. ^^Go at once, captain; such a pleasure will not be 
refused. Take my carriage. 1^11 wait here till your re- 
turn, or ril go with you to the city if you like, and tele- 
graph for Buccleugh, recalling him, unless Miss Jessie 
prefers to write to him herself?” 

He regarded her keenly, and she, restraining her deep- 
ening color, calmly returned his look with a dignified 
shake of the head. 

You shall telegraph, if you please, Mr. Russel,” said 
she, gently. shrink from dealing the blow to my 

Cousins's peace that this knowledge will give him, unless 
poor Glencora can satisfy us all of her innocence in the 
atrocious circumstances of her disappearance. Florice, 
come up stairs, and let me assist you to dress.” 

She drew her from the room as she spoke, and Mrs. Flla- 
thorne, with a heavy heart, followed to lay out appropriate 
adornments for a visit to Holyrood. 

Jessie’s nimble fingers performed the friendly office of 
tire- wo man. If her warm heart revolted from the appear- 
ance of treachery in that one radiant sister, certainly it 
clung with tenfold affection to the other hapless little one. 

When Florice hurried down to her guardian as he stood 
in waiting in the hall, a prettier ambassadress could scarcely 
be imagined than that slender fay in floating silk of pale 
green, white lace mantilla, and snowy crape bonnet, wreathed 
with ivy leaves; her pure cheek crimson with fitful excite- 
ment, her hazel eyes glimmering with anticipative triumph. 

As Harold Russel handed her to the carriage he pressed 
her nervous fingers, and bent his earnest, dark face over 
her. 

Tell her that Buccleugh is losing heart, and losing his 
sanity,” whispered he; ^^and his friends know it to be so. 
Tell her that Buccleugh never doubted her constancy for a 
moment.” 

" He relinquished the little clinging fingers, the captain 
sprang in beside her, Russel took his place, and thus with 
certainty before them, and doubt and dimness left be- 


106 THE BRIDE ELECT, 

hind them, once more they went forth on the track of the 
bride-elect. 

Should they see her again, that very hour? 

No wonder Florice’s cheek burned with scarlet fire; no 
wonder Captain Drummond pulled the silky strands of his 
brown beard in deep abstraction, while Harold Eussel anx- 
iously watched the two. If it were to be so, what extraor- 
dinary disclosures were they about to hear? 

Harold left them in the town, and they accomplished the 
rest of their important drive in unbroken silence. 

They drew up by the royal statue in the square before Holy- 
rood, and alighting, walked to the entrance gates, where 
paced the queen^s guards. 

And thus Captain Drummond enacted the first scene of 
the drama. 

He requested to see the steward of the palace, and being 
conducted, with his lovely companion, to an empty ante- 
room in the modern portion of the pile, that functionary 
soon made his appearance. Captain Drummond asked him 
if the queen’s attendants were then in the palace, and was 
informed that they were, and m waiting on her majesty. 

Tell me the ladies’ names, if you please,” next demanded 
the captain. 

The old steward fumbled for his snuff-box, and con- 
sidered. 

If I remember right, sir,” replied he, presently, ‘‘the 
names of the ladies this year are Lady Leeds, the Countess 
Elsinger, and Lady Tresilyan.” 

“ There were four whispered the agitated Florice. 

“The other name, if you please?” inquired the captain. 

“ I assure you her majesty has but three of her attendants 
with her, and but two will accompany her to the north; the 
fourth lady you mention is not in her train, but is Lady 
Tresilyan’s sister-in-law. Lady Clara Tresilyan, a favorite of 
her majesty, who has come up to see Edinburgh with my 
Lord Audley Tresilyan.” 

“Is Lady Clara Tresilyan in the palace now?” asked the 
bewildered captain. 

“ Oh, no; she has gone to reside with the Duchess of Air- 
ley, in Golden Crescent, Newtown.” 

“You may be sure, sir, that I have ample reasons for 
these inquiries/’ explained Captain Drummond, apologet- 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


107 


ically. I pray you pardon my pertinacity. Be good 
enough to describe the appearance of Lady (Jlara Tresilyan.^' 
Very well, sir,^^ responded the obliging old gentleman. 

As far as my memory serves me, she is a dark-faced Eng- 
lish lady, tall, with a proud carriage, and a fine complexion, 
dark eyes, blue or black, don^t know which, not unlike Lady 
Tresilyan herself, in fact, though there is not a drop of re- 
lated blood between them.^'’ 

The captain looked in perplexity at Florice. 

Is it not probable that one of the other three ladies 
might have borne the resemblance you recognized he 
asked, doubtfully, of her. 

^^Are the other three all English?’^ asked Florice, 
timidly. 

The anxiety that spoke in her depressed tones went 
straight to the old many’s heart; he carefully informed her 
on every point. 

“ Lady Leeds is English, and not young; the Countess 
Elsinger is German, and fresh from the Continent; Lady 
Tresilyan is Scotch, and has always lived in London, they 
say; she was married, nearly two months ago, to Lord 
Tresilyan, with the queen^’s august consent.^'’ 

What more do you know of Lady Tresilyan inquired 
Captain Drummond, nervously. 

Nothing, sir, of any moment, save that she is a stranger 
in Edinburgh, and promises herself much pleasure in visit- 
ing its sights.” 

Poor Captain Drummond wiped his dumfounded face 
with his handkerchief, sorely perplexed. 

Then the only way we can hope to identify the lady we 
are in search of would be to see them all, in some manner. 
Can you assist us to do so?” 

Not possible to-night, sir, unless your business is such 
that you are willing to break through all ceremony to 
execute it; but in the morning, as the queen goes to the 
station, you will see the two ladies who accompany her. If 
you still wish, after that, to see the other two, come to 
Ilolyrood, and you will find either themselves or some one 
to give you their address.” 

With many thanks, the guardian and ward withdrew, 
forced to content themselves with this scant success. 

But as they rolled the dust through the pleasant streets, 


108 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


once more Florice^s right hand pressed the captain’s arm in 
entreaty. 

^^Let us go to Golden Orescent!” pleaded she, patiently. 

And they went. 

As a staid old groom conducted them through the long 
corridor to the Duchess of Airly’s drawing-room, they saw 
a stream of gas-light, early lit in the deepening twilight, 
issuing from an open door, and they heard gay tones within 
the chamber, and as Florice, in passing, glanced in, she 
caught a glimpse of a stately female figure standing in the 
center of the elegant boudoir, its back to her, and the gay 
tones merrily laughed out: 

^"Ah, she" is a spirited one! My dear creature, they will 
never daunt my lady into submission. She says she’ll own 
no authority but Audley’s. She vows that she means to 
beard the lion in his den, and recover her fortune, every 
guinea of it. Ha! ha! your grace should hear the bride 
jesting over the indignation of her relatives!” 

And much more of the same import, delivered gleefully. 

Captain Drummond sent his card to Lady Clara Tresilyan, 
desiring an interview. 

Lady Clara Tresilyan sent back a polite message, that as 
she felt weary with her railway journey, would Captain 
Drummond, being a stranger to her, please excuse her until 
the morrow? 

Then Florice, with hands that shook, penciled on the back 
of her own card: ‘‘Lady Clara Tresilyan, if you have not 
forgotten the love of Heaven, forget not the love of your 
sister Florice! Grant us an interview r and dispatched 
that to the invisible Thalia. 

And presently the heavy oak door was thrown wide, and 
a tall lady swept into the perfumed twilight of the Duchess 
of Airly’s drawing-room — a lady with commanding figure, 
heavy braids of amber hair, dusky. Southern face, with ver- 
milion cheeks, and melting, violet eyes. 

She stood before them, smiling graciously, and looking 
down on Florice with much interest. And Lady Clara 
Tresylyan was not Glencora! 

In a few words of bitter disappointment. Captain Drum- 
mond explained his motive for intruding on her at all, ap- 
pealing to her evident sympathy for the unfortunate sister, 
Florice, to excuse their mistake. Lady Clara was vividly 
interested. She sat down and drew a few low-toned replies 


HE WAITED FOR HIS VICTIM TO SPEAK.— (P. 64.) 



t 




110 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


from Florice’s cold lips, and she proffered her assistance 
most sweetly. 

Most strange, indeed!’^ exclaimed she, thoughtfully. 
^^And you feel assured. Miss Calvert, that you recognized 
the missing lady among us four, this afternoon? Ah, you 
must see us all in turn, then, and apprehend the Jonah! 
The Countess Elsinger may be your lost friend, sir. I am 
not capable of judging what are her motives for her usual 
taciturnity. I donT like her, therefore I am doing her in- 
justice in mentioning her name at all, only that she is the 
one stranger among the quartette. Look well at my Lady 
Leeds and Countess Elsinger to-morrow. As for my sister- 
in-law, Lady Tresilyan, she is no more likely to be your 
unfortunate Miss Calvert than Queen Pomare is.^’ 

With a few expressions of polite regret on her side, and 
civility on the captain^ they retired, baffled. 

We can do nothing more to-night, my darling girlie!" 
said the captain, tenderly, as they once more sat in the car- 
riage. This curious affair eludes all attempts to unravel 
it. We must do as the palace steward advised, I suppose — 
obtain a good view of the two ladies in the queen^s train to- 
morrow. Fortunately, we have it in our power to trace 
each one of these four suspected persons, and, sooner or 
later, we shall meet, face to face, with that lady whom you 
believe to be your sister. Till then, sweetheart, commit 
your anxiety to a higher power than the puny power of 
man; for see, my love, how ill-advised the best of u<6 are — 
how easily our wisdom is overthrown!" 

When Florice spoke, at last, her words were few and cold. 

Anthony," said she, looking him full in the face, “are 
we sure that Lady Clara Tresilyan knew nothing of what 
once was Glencora Calvert? Why should her unnamed 
friend jest at her relative'^s indignation?" 

A somber frown descended on his frank brow. He tried 
to escape the drift of her meaning, but it found him out,, 
and tortured him. 

“ If that was so, Florice, would Glencora be worth the 
seeking?" said he, between his teeth. 

And Florice said nothing. 

Ah, well-a-day! It was a bitter home-coming, after all. 

And what said the friends at home? Little enough. But 
if their words were scant, their thoughts were deep. The 
Glencora they had loved seemed drifting away, not only 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Ill 


from their ken, but from her sacred throne in their trust. 
Whither should their suppositions wander, that they were 
not met by evil-eyed suspicion? In gloom, another night of 
waiting passed. 

The morning that was to behold the queen en route for 
Balmoral, dawned through chilling showers, which swept 
from horizon to horizon in sudden sheets of blinding drops, 
washing the foliage into brighter emerald, the grain fields 
into richer gold. 

Yet Florice bravely adhered to the arrangement they had 
thought it prudent to adopt, that of riding on horseback to 
Holyrood Palace, the more easily to make quick progress 
through the anticipated throng, in their resolve to observe 
the Countess Elsinger and Lady Leeds. 

As the captain lifted her to the saddle, in a windy break 
between the showers, he sighed to see the rude gusts sweep- 
ing over the bending figure, and dashing the chestnut ring- 
lets across her colorless cheek. 

His sweet ward — his tender girlie, whom he had loved 
with such sacred passion, and cherished from every shadowy 
care — his Florice, to battle thus with wrong and heartless 
treachery ! 

As the guardian and ward ambled down the arcaded ave- 
nue, we so often have traversed in mental presence, each 
cast a backward glance, through the long vista, at the ma- 
jestic mansion of misery and doubt, and a swift cry burst, 
mentally, from heart to Heaven : 

Oh, Heaven — oh, pitiful Father, send us home in peace 
at last!” 

And then the heavy gates, opened for them by the 
gardeneFs boy, clanged behind them, and they cantered 
down the plashing lane, and the streaming clouds met 
them on the way, and coldly swathed the little sister in 
clinging folds of wet. 

And her spirit rose in the storm, and her timid eyes 
gathered light from the frowning day. 

^^Come, Anthony; come quickly!” cried she, with silver 
voice in the rain. To-day we shall win the victory. 
Tis ever darkest before dawn.” 

On they dashed through the crowded streets, and near- 
ing Holyrood there surged the throng, anxious for a glimpse 
at the queen, and the guards, lords, and attendants clus- 


112 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


tered around the royal carriage — a close one, because of 
the unwelcome weather. 

And as Anthony and Florice threaded their way through 
the hacking people, who willingly crushed each other to let 
pass such a quiet pair, and paused by the queen^s statue, a 
cheer burst from a thousand throats, and the queen, lean- 
ing on the arm of her royal spouse, passed slowly down from 
the palace portal to her carriage, entered, and the door was 
shut. 

Then the white steeds, with stately steps, moved down 
the glistening causeway and entered the park. 

The prince and princess entered their chariot in like 
manner, and followed in their train, and at last — at 
emerged the ladies of honor. 

But alas! not being royal personages, and, therefore, not 
holding themselves obliged to shed the effulgence of their 
sacred countenances upon that portion of the Scottish 
nation that stood soaking there in the September floods for 
their sakes, these ladies tripped hastily from the friendly 
shelter of the palace to the carriage door, and gaining their 
seats without raising their faces, were driven away too. 

So the foiled equestrians had nothing for it but to canter 
in a wide circle outside the lingerers along the royal route, 
and crossing the park amid a deluge of annoying rain, 
reached St. Slargaret^s Station flrst, where the royal railway 
car, glittering in snowy freshness and gilded blazonings, 
and attached to a flowery-erown-capped engine, unsnort- 
ingly awaited the arrival of its august freight. Thus, with 
the fleld nearly to themselves, the guardian and ward sat on 
their steaming and restive horses till the queen arrived, 
alighted, bowing graciously to each, and glancing with a 
smile, perhaps of pity, at the wan face of this little Scotch 
subject. 

Then the royal children, laughing in childish good 
humor at the untoward rain, and running under the flower- 
arched gateway to the shelter of the platform. 

And then the eagerly eyed court ladies. 

And as they tripped by, each with anxious upward 
glance at the sullen sky. Captain Drummond murmured to 
Florice: 

No, Florrie; oh, no, these are strangers." 

A haughty, middle-aged dame was the Lady Leeds; a 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


113 


blonde, a belle-esprit, and obese wa? the German Elsinger, 
and neither was a whit like Glencora. 

Lady Tresilyan is the one,"*^ said Florice, in a calm 
voice. 

So they rode back on their traces. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE FALSE HEART AKD THE TRUE. 

Slower poured the rain in sullen perseverance, empty and 
desolate-looking was the rolling expanse of the Queen’s Park, 
but yesterday glittering with life and beauty. The lonely 
riders had their road all to themselves, and the sweeping 
sheets of mist almost hid them from each other. 

If little Florice’s face was pale and cold, and her heart 
numbed into icy endurance, the captain’s was not so. 

Every glance he directed toward that slender little rider 
at his side — breasting the wild tornado sweeping up sheer 
from Portabello shores — every gleam of her white, set face 
through the hurrying scud scorched his heart into deeper 
fire, and kindled his face into hotter excitement. It hurt 
his great heart to see his delicate flower out in the storm of 
life — committed ruthlessly to its bitterest roughnesses. 

He would joyfully have borne triple the load of her grief 
to save her tender heart, and proudly would he have courted 
the buffeting and the scorning which seemed to be ordained 
for her, as the reward of her sweet constancy to her sister. 

Heavens!” he cried, at last, ^^I can’t stand it!” 

^‘What, guardie?” murmured the sweet, plaintive voice 
of Florice, as if loaded with tears — and, indeed, from a 
well of tearful agony came that childish tone. 

This rain, and you under it! Girlie, come straight home. 
You’re not to stand such exposure. I won’t have it.” 

Rain! What care I for the storm, Anthony? I’m not 
thinking much of that; I don’t feel it.” 

‘‘But I do. Florice, it’s like to kill me, seeing you by 
my side to-day. Oh, my dove! my wee nestler! the sorrow 
and the storm are beating on you too hard this day. Let 
me take you home, dear, and I'll work like a giant by 
myself,” 


114 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


He stopped short in his fiery, broken- voiced earnestness, 
and took her hands in his, for his eyes were so dim, and the 
storm was so fierce, that he must needs hold his little Florice 
to assure himself that she was not whirled away. 

Wefil go one place first, Anthony, said Florice, with 
her hazel eyes streaming tender gratitude upon him; we’ll 
go back to Holyix)od, and ask for Lady Tresilyan.” 

To Holyrood? Well, my girl, we’ll go again — and be 
balked again,” he muttered to himself. 

They urged their shrinking horses, and soon cantered 
into the city again, up the short street, and before Victoria’s 
dripping statue. 

“^Need you dismount?” asked the captain, doubtfully, 
holding Florice’s horse, and looking up at the somber front 
of the palace. 

I will wait first and see,” she answered, with her eager 
eyes also scanning each window in turn. 

He led her horse into a sheltered side of the court, and 
applied for admittance. A groom in livery appeared. 

The hall, as disclosed by the opening of the door, ap- 
peared in some disorder; huge packing-cases were standing 
side by side, drapings were hiding stairway and gilding, 
velvet carpets were being rolled up; evidently the pageant 
was over when the queen had gone. 

^‘Has Lady Tresilyanyet left the palace?” demanded the 
captain. 

'' Her ladyship has not yet started,” answered the man, 
with a bow. 

Will you carry up Captain Drummond’s compliments, 
and entreat an interview?” 

“Unfortunately, Lady Tresilyan has gone out with my 
lord just twenty minutes ago, sir.” 

^'A-h, gone out! how unfortunate! I suppose 3/0 w cannot 
tell me where?” 

“ Sir, I have the honor to be his lordship’s valet, and I 
can tell you where. My lord and lady drove in a close car- 
riage to see her sister.” 

Captain Drummond’s brow quivered; was it over at last? 
But he must make sure, though, of my lady. 

“My good man, I would like very much to meet Lady 
Tresilyan this morning, for my business is very urgent. 
Will you be so kind as to describe her ladyship’s appearance, 
that I ma^ recognize her?” 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


115 


My lady is tall, finely formed, majestic, and sprightly. 
That^s her port. Her face is handsome, complexion bloom- 
ing, teeth perfect, eyes laughing and black — yes, my lady^s 
eyes are miracles — hair abundant, raven black and curling; 
and 1 think IVe presumed as far as is necessary. We are 
all very proud of my lady, sir; seeing she^s so new a bride, 
she carries great admiration. Sir, she was called the Beauty 
of the Court and ^ Midsummer Kose^ when she married my 
lord, in July. Her majesty was charmed with her.” 

Anthony, Anthony,”breathedthe.little Florice, ^^come 
home — it is she. Glencora has gone to see her sister; come 
home!” 

Who would think to hear those startling words spoken in 
so calm, so mournful a tone? The lips that uttered them 
were cold and stern, the heart of Florice was heavy as lead. 

^‘Married in Juiy.^' To a lord — yes, that it was; eloped 
with a lord clandestinely for the sake of ambition. 

If this was Glencora, she was no longer Glencora to 
Florice. Glencora was good and noble — this Glencora was 
not. 

Side by'side they cantered through the streets. No word 
was spoken, no slacking of their headlong pace. In half 
an hour they had traversed Gower lane; in half a minute the 
iron gate was spinning open, and ere it clanged back to its 
place, the door of Lady-Bank was reached. 

There was no close carriage at the door; there were only 
conscious faces seen for a fleeting moment at the windows, 
then reappearing at the open door. 

She^s not — shea’s not gone f ” gasped Florice. 

Have they been here?” also questioned Anthony, boldly 
and excitedly. 

Jessie Buccleugh burst into a torrent of inquiries. 

Mrs. Ellathorne kept forcible possession of her senses, to 
be of use. 

No one has been at this house since you left it,” she 
said, gravely. 

Captain Drummond turned like lightning at that, and 
caught Florice in his arms. He was not a moment too soon. 
Suspense, fatigue, and disappointment had had their due 
effect, and the girl, swaying dizzily in her seat, fell forward 
into the faithful arms stretched to receive her. 

She did not faint, however; grief and misery were grip- 
ing her tender heart too fiercely for that. She lay on the 


116 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


sofa in the parlor where her lover had carried her, and her 
whole form quivered with the inward violence she was suf- 
fering. 

Girlie, girlie!” murmured Anthony, trembling for her. 

He bent over her and covered her little shoulder with one 
broad, irresolute hand, but her hands were on her face, and 
her brown hair rippled down in kind luxuriance over her. 

“ Hester,” entreated the captain, with his bronzed face all 
appealing, ^^come to Florice — she^ll die!” 

Mrs. Ellathorne was rapidly preparing some restorative 
with careful, unfaltering hands. Jessie Buccleugh was on 
her knees beside the couch, quite still with alarm. 

Go away, Anthony,” said Mrs. Ellathorne. Go, Jes- 
sie, dear lassie. Vll tend my poor bairn myself.” 

Reluctantly the good captain obeyed, although he thought 
he had the best right to be there, and Jessie Buccleugh, 
anxious and sober-faced, followed him. 

Bairnie, is this you succumbing to ill success so soon?” 
And Mrs. Ellathorne lifted the lax form of the exhausted 
girl in her arms, and began gently to untie her little drip- 
ping hat. My sweet bairnie, what^s given your heart this 
blow? Who should have been here to meet you and An- 
thony?” 

Poor little Elorice stood up with her habit trailing around 
her in funereal folds, and her nervous hand fluttered at her 
throat as the hysteria rose high. 

Glencora!” she cried, in a spasmodic way; she has de- 
serted Alexander for an English lord, and she^s Lady Tresil- 
yan now, and no longer Glencora. She’s no more my sister 
whom I loved. Oh, she has fallen !” 

She shrieked in her maddening excitement and wrung her 
frantic hands; it was tearing her heart asunder thus to tear 
her trust from Glencora; it was worse than death to the lost 
one thus to lose her. 

Mrs. Ellathorne asked no more questions. She quietly 
and flrmly insisted on her retiring to her own room for an 
hour or two. 

'^Anthony will not be idle, I assure you,” she urged. 

Leave it in his hands, I implore you, Florice, and don’t 
endanger your own life.” 

The captain was pacing up and down the long drawing- 
room, to which he and Jessie had retreated, and, with be- 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


117 


wildered heart, he was trying to satisfy her anxious ques- 
tions, when his sister entered. 

‘‘ She'll do better after a quiet rest," said Mrs. Ellathorne, 
answering his eager look; ‘‘ and now explain this extraordi- 
nary business. The poor child declares her sister to be 
married to an English lord." 

“The case stands thus," cried Captain Drummond. 
“Jessie vouches for the identity of the lady in the queen's 
suite; Florice swears she was her sister. Well, we have 
seen three of these four ladies who were in her majesty's 
train, and none of them is Glencora. There remains but 
one of the four — Lady Tresilyan — married in July, a Scotch 
lady, and answering in description exactly to Glencora; her 
we neither have seen, nor can we contrive to see her, whether 
by accident of circumstance or otherwise, I do not mean to 
judge. Now, if Jessie, Florice, and Harold Russel have not 
strangely mistaken a resemblance for the reality of our lost 
girl. Lady Tresilyan is certainly that girl, and I mean to 
confront her this very day, cost what it may. Thank 
Heaven, she is still at Holyrood Palace!" 

“ Mr. Russel telegraphed last night for Alexander," said 
Mrs. Ellathorne, as calmly as if she had been listening to a 
common detail of business; in point of fact, her whole 
heart revolted against the probability of this story with 
utter disbelief; with her previous knowledge of Glencora's 
character, she would not understand such duplicity as this 
revelation involved. 

“ Then he should have been here this morning," said the 
captain, fidgeting about, and looking down the avenue, as 
if he expected him to appear in sight that minute; “ but he 
can't have come, for the Aberdeen train is in before this 
time." 

“ Why, Anthony, he may be far enough away from Ab- 
erdeen," said his sister. “ When he wrote to you last he 
was at Alvic, in Inverness." 

“ Yes," aspirated, the captain, “ wearing his heart out in 
false hopes. He thought a Glencora Allison living there as 
a music teacher might be our girl. Poor fellow! he said if 
he failed he'd be back to Aberdeen in two days. Sure 
enough he's failed, if she's in this town- to-day living in 
palace halls. Poor Alexander! poor good-hearted fellow!" 
breathed Anthony, with his face averted to the window; “if 
this is true, he's been doubly wronged." 


118 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


Jessie Buccleugli^s fair face flushed a deep carmine; her 
soft blue eyes sparked indignantly; she turned hastily away 
and trifled with the callas in a porphyry statuette vase. 

' ^‘She may be a grand lady with a title/"' thought Jessie; 
^^hut shea's too mean a worm for Alexander.^"' 

The day was wearing on apace, and the sea hurricane had 
drifted across the city to some other shore, and Edinburgh 
town smiled fairer than ever witli snowy spires and glitter- 
ing windows in the afternoon sun. 

And heavy-hearted Captain Drummond drove with an 
anxious foreboding,^ in his spruce little cab and his best 
dress suit, down the flowery Gower lane to call at the palace. 

His hopes were sinking fast, and his soul turned reluc- 
tantly from the ordeal through which he was forcing him- 
self to pass. 

He did not wish to unmask the treachery which had been 
wrought upon them — better she were lost forever than thus 
found. But the task must be accomplished, for the sake of 
wronged Florice Calvert grieving into insanity — for the 
sake of doubly wronged Alexander, left to bear the shadow 
of many a cruel injustice, for her sake who had basely de- 
serted him. 

He drew the check-string and alighted at Holyrood, 
knocked the ponderous knocker of one of the side doors, 
was admitted into an anteroom and to the presence of the 
house steward. 

Yes, Lady Tresilyan was in the palace."'^ 

Be so kind, sir, as to send up this card for me,” said the 
captain, with rather a dubious look. 

The steward summoned a servant and dispatched the 
card. 

Her ladyship is just preparing for her departure at six 
oYlock,” said the old man, as if in excuse for his hesitation. 

Her departure?” ejaculated Anthony; ^^she^s going to 
leave Edinburgh so soon?” 

“ That is her ladyship"’s intention,” replied the steward. 

Then there was dead silence, the old man looking up at 
the royal arms over the mantel-piece, and courteously wait- 
ing for further questions — the young man, with a set face, 
savagely biting his nails, while his heart beat like a funeral 
drum. 

In ten minutes the door opened, and my lord^s valet stood 
bowing and apologizing there. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


119 


Her ladyship regrets, sir, but her fright in the morning 
has rather unsettled her, and she would rather not see 
strangers.” 

Go to Lady Tresilyan, and tell her I cannot go without 
an interview!” 

Captain Drummond would have lengthened his message, 
but some hot blood mounting to his brow, his voice became 
thick, and he wrenched the words off into silence. 

My lord^s valet bowed lower than before. 

Nothing would give her ladyship greater pleasure than 
to accommodate the gentleman, but if the gentleman would 
be so kind as to leave his message, her ladyship would 
prefer it. 

Go!^* cried Anthony, with ungovernable fire. Don’t 
dare to give messages of your own to me, fellow! Go!” 

He stood erect, with blue lightning in his eye, with 
haughty command expressed in his outstretched arm. 

Captain Drummond had quelled a mutiny on board ship 
off the Carrabas, with that stern eye; Captain Drummond 
had laid a traitor low, on his own quarter-deck, with that 
pointing hand. A mild man, when roused, is terrible as a 
whirlwind. 

Perhaps my lord’s valet had a prescience of a moral giant 
standing before him; perhaps the scent of danger was not 
acceptable to his dainty olfactories; for, with a few mur- 
mured words of deprecation, his padded legs fieetly ascended 
the grand staircase, and were incontinently lost to view. 

The steward prudently withdrew, to attend some less 
puzzling summons, and when the captain next turned round 
fiercely at the opening of the door, prepared to war with 
Apollyon himself, his eyes encountered a stylish lady’s 
maid, airy, piquant, and knowing. 

Sir,” said mademoiselle, in lisping English, my lady 
would the much rather that you would leave her in solitude, 
undisturbed. She has sustained much peril this morning; 
she has been dashed against the Duke of Wellington’s mon- 
ument, monsieur, by her wicked horses. My lord rescues 
her from her peril, takes her back to’ this palace in a com- 
mon cab of the street. My lady is so fatigued and exhausted 
that she cannot see you — that she sees no one — that she has 
been wrecked on her way to his lordship’s sister. They 
leave this city at the hour of six; the strength must be 
treasured for the journey. Will the gentleman excuse?” 


120 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


And my lady’s femme de chamhre swept a courtesy of latest 
Parisian grace. 

Under this deluge of politeness, poor Anthony Drum- 
mond was swept helplessly into a whirlpool of confusion. 

Three facts combined at once to stun him. It was not 
Florice she had set out to seek in the morning; it was Lady 
Clara Tresilyan. I 

She was going to leave Edinburgh immediately. She 
was slipping through his fingers. 

Is Lord Tresilyan in the palace at present?” queried he, 
after a pause. 

Scarcely disappointed, he heard that — 

His lordship went to see Lady Clara, and inform her of 
my lady’s accident. She returns with his lordship to the 
palace, that they may travel together.” 

Where are they going?” 

This is the captain’s last shot; the locker is empty. 

Where?” echoed the Frenchwoman, with penciled eye- 
brows raised to ebony hair. Monsieur, I could not begin 
to attempt to instruct you — my lady is so volatile. At two 
o’clock my lady has returned from her drive of terror, of 
tragedy, and she is in very fiery temper. My lord laughs, 
and soothes her; but my lady won’t be soothed. ‘I sha’n’t 
stay in wretched Edinburgh!’ she cries. ^I sha’n’t stay in 
miserable Scotland I I hate Scotland I Take me back to 
London!’” 

She said that?” breathed Anthony Drummond. 

Ah, but my lady is so changeable! At three of the day 
she is all smiles, and cries, ‘AVe’ll have you up to the High- 
lands, Celeste, to learn Gaelic, and you shall marry a man 
with a philabeg!’ hTow, my lady is in a terrible state, and 
will see no one. Cannot monsieur leave a message?” 

And the lady’s maid wheeled an escritoire before the cap- 
tain, spread dainty gilt paper, gold pen, and crystal inkstand, 
and then awaited the expected message. 

Poor Captain Drummond leaned his elbows on the desk, 
and buried his face in his hands, for his head was whirling 
round and round with Celeste’s rapid succession of words; 
and somehow he could not get rid of the ideat that she was 
outwitting him. 

With a helpless groan, he dipped the golden pen in the 
inky well, and as he felt the last cord slipping through his 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


121 


hands, and the sails flapping of the foundering ship, he de- 
termined to give one sting to faithless Glencora Calvert. 

“ Glencora,” he wrote, you have gained a title, trapped 
a lord, secured fortune, advancement, and distinction. For 
these you have sacrificed honor, betrayed a true man, de- 
serted a virtuous family, and broken the heart of a sister, 
pure as Heaven. Anthony, who once loved you, makes but 
one request: For the sake of honor, love, and Heaven — see 
your sister before you leave Edinburgh, and satisfy her that 
you have not basely flung off all natural ties; then, if you 
will, let the breach, which you have cast between us, remain 
forever unspanned. Glencora, in your happiness and pride 
do you never remember that Alexander Buccleugh has been 
wrecked on the quicksands, because he put faith in a false 
woman? Let that remembrancb be the brightest jewel in 
your coronet.” 

Captain Drummond dashed these words down, scarcely 
conscious of their wild incoherence; then he folded over the 
sheet, enveloped it, and picked up a seal, but glancing upon 
the turquois crest, and seeing the initials A. T.” he flung 
it angril)rdown, and watering it, he handed it to the smil- 
ing lady'^s maid. 

Deliver this note to your mistress, and take that to buy 
a token for your sweetheart.” 

He thrust a five-pound note in her haind, crammed his 
hat on his head, and hurried from the palace. 

Had the captain been possessed of the writeFs power of 
invisibility, and entered the room where Celeste stood, he 
would have beheld her open the letter to Glencora, read it, 
and exclaiming Monsieur is insane! ” throw it into the fire. 

Captain Drummond walked along the Edinburgh streets, 
perhaps as miserable a man as any in Midlothian; his face 
was actually haggard, and set into stern lines, with the 
hard, unaccustomed thoughts which were filling his heart. 

His eyes burned and moistened as he reached the railway 
station, and stood on the platform, waiting for the Aber- 
deen train to come in. He leaned up against the stone 
railings, with his eyes fixed on the passing stream of people, 
and his thoughts were so engrossing that half an hour elapsed 
before he changed his position. 

The shrill, prolonged whistle of the coming train he was 
waiting for, roused him from his reverie, with a start, and 
eagerly he looked into each car as it passed him. 


122 


THE BBIBE ELECT. 


Then, with a suddenly purpled face, he was springing 
forward and grasping the hand of a pale, worn-looking 
gentleman, who was picking his way, with drooping head, 
among the crowd. 

Welcome home, Buccleugh. Kerens one that^s glad to 
see you, old fellow. God bless you, Alexander, youVe suf- 
fered grief enough to reduce you this way. ” 

Tears were in the honest captain's eyes now, his voice 
was husky, and he linked his silent comrade's arm within 
his own to draw him away, with a convulsive gesture of 
friendship. 

Where — where is she?" he gasped at last, and Anthony 
now saw that intense excitement had stricken his friend 
almost dumb. 

“Never mind now, old fellow," he said, soothingly, 
“you'll hear all about it when you've had a rest. Come 
home now, and be coddled up by little Florice; you'll rouse 
her if nothing else will." 

“ Go home? Go home when my lost girl is in this city, 
Anthony? Can you ask me to be calm? Where is she 
that I may fly to her side? Why are you not taking me 
instantly to Glencora? What has happened to her, 
Anthony? I implore you tell me in one word!" 

Alexander stopped short in his excitement, drew his 
hand from his friend's arm, and confronted him with wild 
desperation in his eyes. It was hard to see the change 
which bitter sorrow had made in his countenance. Lines 
of pain were drawn upon a brow once smooth and serene as 
marble — a deadly pallor spread its pale ensign over every 
feature, and the once brave, ardent blue eyes were sunken 
and melancholy. 

“Hush, Buccleugh! This excitement is needless," said 
Anthony, with a sinking heart. “ I'll tell you all about it 
in private. Come, we'll hail a cab, and on the way to 
Lady-Bank we'll have a talk." 

Thus speaking. Captain Drummond forced him gently 
into a cab, told the cabman to drive slowly to Lady-Bank, 
got in, and shut the door. 

“Where did you get the telegram which Russel sent 

“I was at Skene, seven miles from Aberdeen, following 
up a party of travelers, which interested me, when the 
telegram reached my hotel last night. They only sent it 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


123 


by the stage to me this morning. I got it at ten o^clock ; 
there was no conveyance to be had at Skene, so I walked 
down to Aberdeen, and was barely in time to catch the 
midday train. Thank Heaven, however, no time was 
lost.^^ 

‘^And you have been fasting since early this morning? 
Poor old friend!” 

Alexander looked at him with a kind of patient anguish, 
and put the bulletin in his hand. 

There it is,” he said. “ Kead it and see all I have had 
to feed on to-day and then tell me something more. In 
Heaven^s name, Anthony, cut short this suspense. I — I^m 
not as strong as I have been, and this upsets me terribly!” 

The captain was fain to turn from the shaking hand on 
his arm to the telegram in his fingers, for his own lips were 
quivering with deep and heartfelt sympathy. Truly the 
contents were but few. They ran thus: 

** Come down to Edinburgh with all dispatch. The 
missing one has been seen in this city. H. Russel to A. 
Buccleugh, Royal Hotel, Union street.” 

Now, Anthony!” pleaded poor Alexander, patiently. 

Thus adjured, the heart-wrung man griped hard his 
friend’s hand and applied the scalpel. 

Well, Alexander, in the first place Pm going to tell you 
that she’s' safe and well, so you need not be alarmed any 
more on that score.” 

Thank Heaven!” ejaculated the listener, leaning back 
in his seat with a tear in his eye. 

^^But from appearances and actions we fear — we 
fear ” ' 

What, Anthony ?” 

That Glencora has betrayed our trust by willfully de- 
serting us.” 

^'Explain ; I cannot understand you!” 

There was nothing in Alexander’s face now but blank 
wonder, and perhaps a suspicion of resentment. 

Buccleugh, my friend, how shall I convey my meaning 
to you without wounding your feelings? It’s a hard task 
for me, but you must bear it like a man. You know her 
Majesty the Queen passed through the town yesterday on 
her way to Balmoral, and the girls Jessie and Florice, with 
young Russel to escort them, were in Arthur’s seat to see 
them pass. Well, in her suite they discovered Alex- 


124 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


ander, you know. She was among the court ladies, mag- 
nificently dressed, gay, blooming, and seemingly happy. 
My friend, it’s a queer story from first to last, but bear it 
bravely. We’ve made inquiries, followed about the ladies 
in attendance like their shadows, seen them all face to face 
freely enough, except Lady Tresilyan, married this last 
July to Lord Audley Tresilyan, a nobleman from London, 
and apparently she carefully shuns all chance of being con- 
fronted by us. I have just come away from the palace, 
where they told me she would leave Edinburgh at six 
o’clock. I implored an interview, and ivas denied it. 
Alexander, think over this, and make your own conclu- 
sions.” 

Long the devoted young man sat, looking with a stony, 
unseeing stare from the carriage window; then he turned 
round, and his white face fiushed a sudden red. 

“I hear your story, and I believe it; but I don’t under- 
stand you when you say I must make my own conclusions. 
What conclusion does this story cause you to make?” 

What!” cried the captain, in unguarded surprise, Is 
there a doubt as to the color this revelation put upon her 
character? Can’t you see that she has forsaken us all, and 
basely betrayed you ‘ for some scape-grace lord, with whom 
she clandestinely eloped the night before she should have 
fulfilled her vows to you? Don’t you understand that 
Glencora Calvert lives no more as our lost girl, but a vile 
adventuress, who made true hearts her stepping-stones to 
sordid ambition? Cast her from you, man — she’s not wor- 
thy your smallest thought. Forget her, as I must forget 
the girl I loved and cherished for twelve years — as Elorice 
must forget her only sister.” 

In his heat and excitement. Captain Drummond poured 
out his long burning wrath, and forgot the shrinking heart 
beneath his scalpel. 

Alexander rose to his feet in the rattling cab and lifted 
his arm as if to strike down his bride’s accuser. 

She may have been stolen from me,” he gasped; they 
may be forcing her to act a part, but dare not, Anthony 
Drummond, to say that Glencora, my lost love, was false! 
Before God — before highest Heaven I swear it — she is 
pure!” 

Then the straining cord snapped, and Alexander Buc- 
cleugh fell down white and inert, the blood streaming from 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


125 


his mouth, and the cab drew up at the gates of Lady- 
Bank. 


CHAPTER XII. 

CONQUERED AT LAST. 

Lady Kilmeny Strathmore looked down from the grim 
casement of her rosy ‘‘lady’s bower” over the wide waste 
of the Dornock waters, frothing up to the feet of rude crag 
and rugged undulation, far down to the dim haze which indi- 
cated the spot where the little town of Golspie nestled among 
hills, and scurrying sea blasts keen from the angry bosom 
of the North Sea, and as the lonely Lady of Strathmore 
scanned the wide horizon, she thought she saw a thick black 
column stand up like a pillar upon the confines of the heav- 
ing desert, far to the southward, and her heart gave a great 
leap, for she knew it was neither a screaming sea-bird, nor 
the black sail of a fisherman’s smack, such as had rewarded 
many such scrutinies of those black, anxious eyes, that long 
September day. 

“ Mysie,” cried my lady’s quick tones — “ Mysie, find a 
telescope speedily and bring it to me.” 

Mysie precipitantly fied from the room, with dismay 
written on her features, and ran straight to the steward’s 
room. 

“Woe betide us; my lady wants a telescope.” 

“A what, lass?” asked the old man, looking up, testily, 
from some complicated - looking account books. “A 
what?” 

“A telescope, man; and I ken well enough there’s nae 
sic thing in a Strathmore castle, and she’ll fume her poor 
heartie in twa to be refused it.” 

“A telescope, lass, is it? And, for guid sake, what 
for?” 

“ Oh, what ken I? She glowers bot ow’re the dismal 
rocks upon the sea till her bonnie een are glazed and dry 
and burning like a peat coal, and if I look but lang at her 
she fiares oot and makes me tak’ my work to anither room, 
and when I creep back hours after, my bonnie has cried till 
she’s white as the wan-water. And a’ this lang day she’s 
sittin’ at her grim tower window, whae ne’er a glint o’ sun- 


126 


THE BRIBE ELECT, 


shine ever comes, and she^s made me gie her the morsels o’ 
weals in her hands, which she wi’ nae taste for looking owre 
the weary sea. Oh, my sweet mistress! my heart is sore for 
her. What wraith is she looking for to come walking owre 
the sea?” 

And at this point Mysie covered her face with her white 
muslin apron, and cried heartily. 

Down-trodden, repulsed, and domineered over as the 
lady’s-maid certainly was by her cold, haughty mistress, 
she nevertheless clung with extravagant fidelity to the sor- 
rowful Lady of Strathmore. Surely there was some secret 
charm in this proud girl, that all who had yet met her in 
her new possessions felt the influence of her strange will, far 
stronger than their own. 

‘^An’ canna jq mak a telescope, then, if there’s nane 
here?” implored the simple Mysie, who had a very imper- 
fect idea of the article in question. 

Tut, tut, lassie! My makin’ wadna do. Guid preserve 
us — What’s that?” 

Oh, it’s the Lady Kilmeny’s hell!” cried Mysie, turning 
blue with terror, and I danna gang up to say her nay. 
You maun gang, Andrew Thompson, and if ye mak my 
lady gloom at ye wi’ your dour ways, she’ll greef a’ the 
night. Sae mind your tongue, man.” 

Andrew shuffled up the stairs, and presented himself 
within the door of my lady’s chamber. 

^^Well, the telescope, quick!” quoth the lady, holding 
out an imperative hand, but never turning her head from 
the window. 

'^My lady,” answered the steward, with sober and sub- 
dued voice, there’s na sic thing as a telescope in Strathmore 
Tower.” 

Lady Kilmeny turned her face at that with a quick, 
taunting laugh, and her eyes, almost terrible in their strange 
brilliance, flashed up to the old man’s troubled countenance. 

‘^Ha, ha! I might. have known that my good kinsman, 
the laird, would be a mortal foe to such conveniences for 
the Lady of Strathmore. My own keys, my own steeds, my 
own yacht moored in yonder creek, the very rooms of my 
own castle are under Ms command, and used or let alone 
at his pleasure. Let him come and dictate to me what 
dresses I must wear, what I must eat, what I must touch, 
what I must pray Heaven for. Now, Andrew, I protest 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


127 


that my eyes looked upon a telescope down in the banquet- 
room across the antlers of a mastodon, for aught I know or 
care, on that happy day when I first set foot in Strathmore 
as its nominal mistress. Carry your eyes down there now, 
and perhaps they may encounter the same object to-day.'’^ 

My lady,^^ said the old servitor, greatly moved by the 
sad spectacle of his lady^s glancing eyes, and thin, white 
face; my dear, sweet lady, IM walk on my old knees to 
Morven Peak to serve you, but I canna serve you here. 
Laird Tyndale has the telescope. He said it was old and 
worn, and he^’s taken it.^' 

^^Many thanks, my obliging old friend — don’t accomplish 
that acrobatic feat to Morven for me; instead, take one of 
my most comfortable horses, and ride over to Strathmore 
Hall, and tell my cousin Robin I want to see him.” 

“ The young Maister Robin, my lady?” 

Yes — no other. ' I don’t want Gavin, and I don’t want 
Kenneth. If Robin is not there, come back alone.” 

With alacrity, the old steward departed on his mission. 

Bracken Hough was three miles off, but the devoted An- 
drew performed the distance with remarkable celerity, and 
acquitted himself of his mission with a diplomatic tact 
which did him credit. While Gavin and Kenneth were 
besieging him with questions, yellow-haired Robin, the 
happy favorite, obedient to a turn of the wily old visitor’s 
eye, was trotting briskly down the heather-fringed road to 
Strathmore Tower, his warm blood dancing in his lusty 
veins, and his warm heart bounding lightly to his gay whis- 
tling, as pleasantly he thought of his lovely cousin Kilmeny, 
and flew to do her bidding. 

My lady met him at the entrance of the court, habited 
for riding, with whip in hand — dainty scarlet boots tapping 
the flagstones. 

Good Robin,” she said, with her little hand outstretched, 
^‘you have not been long. Come, I am ready.” 

Going a riding, sweet cousin?” cried Robin, with his 
merry eyes traveling well pleased over her dainty equip- 
ments. " And am I to be my lady’s esquire? Bravo then! 
We’ll stretch it over twenty miles, if you like.” 

And Robin, with a secret thrill at his heart, felt his 
cousin’s light weight, as he lifted her up in his arms, and 
placed her on the snorting palfrey in waiting, with its gay. 


128 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


white bridle studded with tiny silver hells, its scarlet saddle 
cloth, and its long, sweeping tail. 

My lady sat bolt upright on her pawing steed, quite un- 
conscious of all the loveliness and grace which enveloped 
her — quite unconscious of the gay young eyes looking up to 
her, and gradually deepening and darkening for love of her. 

And her cold, immovable face was set toward the sea, 
with straight lance-like gazes from dusky eyes, searching the 
long column of gray mists trailing across the Firth, after 
a gradually nearing object. 

When handsome Robin pirouetted to her side on his 
chestnut hunter and gayly cried: 

Which way, cousin mine?^^ 

My lady answered briefly, 

^‘To Golspie.'’^ 

So they swept from under the shadows of Strathmore, 
and into the wild, free expanse of the sheep-downs, and 
broom-covered wastes, but the young cavalieFs brow was 
clouded, despite the sunshine. 

My lady, why must it be to Golspie?’^ demanded he, 
after a neck to neck gallop down the valley, with his im- 
patient companion. 

Lady Kilmeny turned toward him suddenly. 

I’ll tell you why!” she answered, with a daring reck- 
lessness in her tones, curiously at variance with her thin, 
shadowy face; the mail steamer has been in the offing for 
an hour and more, and as she enters Golspie dock, the Lady 
of Strathmore, and her very good cousin must be there in 
right hospitable style to welcome my friend from the Low- 
lands, who comes so far to see Lady Kilmeny’s grand 
fortune.” 

‘•A friend?” cried Robin with a start. Cousin Kil- 
meny, does my father know that you have a friend coming 
here to-day?” 

‘^'Not that I am aware of,” replied my lady, coolly, 

unless he has taken the trouble to intercept my corres- 
pondence at the post-office.” 

The young man flushed a fiery red — his brow darkened, 
and he looked at my lady’s mocking face, with all the stern 
Strathmore blood, in full play, in his heart. 

Lady Kilmeny,” he said, slowly, when you left your 
family and your country to take the honors of your falling 
house, did you intend to let it sink before your eyes; while 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 129 

you but acted the spy upon its weakness, and clung to 
friends who should be friends no more to you, were you 
loyal and true to that name which you uphold? Are you 
so little a lass of spirit that you seek to patch up the broken 
web of the past, and to go back upon the bravery you 
showed, when first you left those obscure friends, and came 
to Strathmore? Shame upon your courage then! Out 
upon your weak heart! I'd rather have had honest Lady 
Rosecleer, who fiouts and flurs at her father's people, and 
forsakes them for seven years, than Kilmeny Strathmore, 
who wears the honors, and betrays the givers in her heart!" 

She looked at his angry face — she met his indignant 
blue eyes, and a weary shadow crept over her countenance 
— sudden weakness seemed to quiver in the proud, curling 
lips, and she snatched her eyes from his, brimming with 
passionate tears, to send them in a wild appeal over the 
frothing waves. 

Oh, Robin, Robin, Robin!" whispered my lady, low, 
would they had left one heart in cold Strathmore, for poor 
Kilmeny, and that heart should be thine!" 

How often has my lady written clandestinely to her 
Lowland friends?" demanded Robin Strathmore, hearing 
nothing but the wrathful throbbing of his own angry heart, 
and beginning to glower from side to side with glancing 
eyes, while his fierce heel fretted with sharp spurs the silky 
side of his starting steed. 

And then the white reins were dropped on the palfrey's 
arching neck, and my lady's little hands were clasped to- 
gether on her knees in meek entreaty, while the fire in her 
unearthly eyes was quenched in slowly rolling tears. 

“ Robin, you do me wrong," she said. Do you remem- 
ber the letter you sent for me with your own hand?" 

He bowed a grave acquiescence, and an [uneasy cloud 
troubled his brow. 

That was my first letter, and my last," she said. Kil- 
meny, of Strathmore, warped and strange as her path is 
spread before her by the stony-hearted arbiter of her life, is 
incapable of deceiving one soul who ever trusted her. 
You trusted to my honor. Cousin Robin, and I kept your 
trust. Your father, the laird, trusts nothing to me but the 
inside of my prison walls, and the jailer who would lead me 
in custody to view my possessions, and I care little how I 


130 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


conquer his plans. Eobin, I have not deceived you. I 
took you with me to-day to meet this coming friend.” 

The young man heaved a long sigh. His brown hand 
went over his brow once or twice, as if to smooth out the 
lines of care and trouble. He looked at his cousin^s white 
face and heavy, tearful eyes, with a long, remorseful look. 

Lady Kilmeny,” he began to say, “ if tliis friend should 
come, the arrival would not make you happier. The ques- 
tion now is, which life are you going to cling to — the past 
or the present? Those friends ” 

Robin,” cried my lady, the past is nothing to me. 
Have I not said so? But this friend — you know I left some 
with no farewell!” she said, in a sinking voice, with wistful 
glance fixed on space. 

I canT say yes or nay about a thing which I donT un- 
derstand,” said Robin, bluntly. But this I know, that if 
/ had been given up willingly by my kith and kin for the 
sake of a grand house claiming me, Fd have little enough 
to say to the family who let me go, preferring news of my 
distant greatness to my presence. Then, how came you. 
Cousin Kilmeny, with that haughty face, speaking in every 
line of Strathmore^s noblest blood — how came you by such 
a failing heart?” 

She drew back, with her eyes hashing angrily. 

What right has your father to speak of my friends to 
you, or Gavin, or Kenneth? How dare he discuss my 
affairs, when I have forbidden him to mention them even 
to me? Even now I think more of those friends than of 
any one in the length and breadth of Sutherland.” 

My father said that you would be pining after a poor 
printers lad, in your bonnie Aberdeen,” cried Robin, 
stung into cruelty, with lips that matched my lady^s own in 
their scornful cast, and eyes which, blue and sunny as they 
were, could equal the stormy wave which foams over the 
sunken rock; and in his present fiery expression and my 
lady^’s darkening face, it was strange how these two resem- 
bled each other, despite the utter contrast in their type of 
beauty. 

My lady gazed at him with eyes once more the blazing 
lights of that too fragile face, now rosed and hectic with 
indignation, and her hands went up in a wild clap to her 
brow. 

Heaven guard my reason!” she cried. ^^Does your 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


131 


father, the laird, want a madwoman for the Lady of Strath- 
more? Away! Get yon gone, and leave me to my misery 
alone! My own heart is better company than youT^ 

Towering and spirited, with the haughty blood in full 
play, my Lady Kilmeny drew off her horse to one side, and 
warded him from her with angry hands. 

Lll fling away that weapon if you’ll keep up that spirit,” 
answered Robin, eying her admiringly. I’ll ne’er breathe 
reproach again to you. Still keep brave heart within your 
bonnie breast, and wrestle with the regrets which wean 
your loyalty from Strathmore.” 

With a slight, scornful smile, my lady threw away her 
anger, grew quite calm, and rode on by his side again, still 
sometimes smiling to herself. 

must have an interview with my good uncle,” she 
muttered, after a long pause, with her old, mocking air. 

Laird Tyndale’s ways are not — as the Scriptures have it — 
are not my ways; and if he cuts out twisting and winding 
paths for my feet to tread, he shall explain more fully 
their signiflcation to me. I object to be any man’s tool. 
The happy Lady of Strathmore shall still claim a small 
interest in her own actions, and, begging my good uncle’s 
pardon, those actions shall be more fully to her own mind 
before she enacts them. Cousin Robin, here’s Golspie, and 
the steamer has arrived at the dock, and I can hear her 
hissing and roaring from here, and I can see her red funnel 
over those fishermen’s huts. Now, my cousin, if that 
steamer, coming from my own country, brings no friend 
for Kilmeny, proving that all those hearts she cherished are 
forgetful — if no face of old-time affection waits by that 
dingy steamer’s side to meet me, I shall honestly wash my 
hands of the bitter past, and become Highland savage, if 
you like; Will that do, most kindly kinsman?” 

Bravo, my sweet cousin! I am almost cruel enough to 
hope ” 

The young cavalier’s words were here cut short by a very 
unexpected apparition in front of them. ♦ 

Mounted upon a stout black cob, with tartan plaid wav- 
ing in the wind, heavy steel bridle glittering in the sun, 
black velvet bonnet low down over his brows, came Laird 
Tyndale Strathmore, pricking up the winding road from 
the town to meet the pair. 

Wily and ever watchful, the laird had extracted from An- 


132 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


drew Thompson’ the particulars of my lady^s message, 
mounted his horse, and taken the direct route from Bracken 
Hough to Golspie, seeing with hawk^s eye and eagle intel- 
ligence the drift of my lady^s intentions with the coming 
steamer. 

So here he was on the ground before her, to console her 
pending disappointment perhaps. 

Heaven^s benison on my fair niece cried the old man, 
with a courtly air, as the winsome couple rode down upon 
him. And where goes Lady Kilmeny to-day?” 

My lady seemed little troubled by awe of this old man, 
who could make the stoutest fisherman in Strathmore ter- 
ritory tremble by a silent glance of his gray eyes. She 
crested her haughty head, and regarded him eye to eye, and 
Laird Tyndale, who was as well aware of her intentions as she 
was herself, saw that it was diamond cut diamond. 

We are on our way to Golspie. Where may you be go- 
ing, Lord Tyndale?” queried my lady, with mocking eyes. 

Ifil turn my horse and accompany you, fair niece, un- 
less I interfere in good company,” answered the laird, with 
smiling significance. 

Unconsciously Robin^s blue eyes sparkled and leaped to- 
ward Lady Kilmeny at that, but she, with scornful amuse- 
ment on her lips, still traveled on, looking at his father full 
in the face. 

You won’t spoil good company,” she said. ^^We were 
wrangling all the way down.” 

And that’s Scotch wooing,” cried the laird, with a loud 
laugh. 

So,” continued my lady, with never a change on her 
cold face, save deeper scorn and defiance, considering that 
you came down all this way to intercept Robin and me in 
our visit to the steamer, and deprived yourself of your after- 
dinner nap, poor man, you shall make a third in the pleas- 
ant company; and won’t we make a goodly three to welcome 
to Strathmore the blithe Lowland friend who comes all this 
way for Kiln^eny’s sending?” 

With the gesture of a triumphant queen she sat upon her 
horse, gathering tight her white reins in one little nerved 
hand; and all the silver bells tinkled a fairy stream of de- 
fiance, and her black, coal-lit eyes shot forth daring exulta- 
tion over her shoulder as she swept in front of father and 
son, leading off the cavalcade. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


133 


She needs a bringing down, and she’ll get it!” muttered 
Laird Tyndale, flushing in spite of himself at her utter fear- 
lessness. 

Don’t answer her, father!” entreated Eobin, with re- 
morse at his own harshness stirring in his softening eyes. 

The poor lass has a hard time of it, between loss of all she 
loved and our rough exactions.” 

Did she speak to you about her friends?” demanded the 
old laird, anxiously. Has she been filling your ears with 
nonsense?” 

She has told me nothing but that she thinks more of 
her Aberdeen grandmother and grandfather, and printer- 
lad, than she does of Sutherland; and that one of them 
lands here to-day.” 

Oh, she’s a wilfu’ queen!” ejaculated Tyndale, shaking 
his fist at the serene figure ambling in front of them, but 
withal having a certain glow of admiration for her, in his 
vengeful glance, and she’d have her say and make her 
way, should Strathmore fa’ about her ears, but saftly, my 
lady Spunkie — saftly, bonnie May, it’s no aye the sourest 
tree that has the sweetest fruit; you’ll be none the waur for 
a down-coming.” 

Father,” said Eobin, with a troubled face, what harm 
would this friend’s coming to cheer Kilmeny do?” 

S’death, man!” growled the father, in response — ^‘so 
much the worse for them if they show their faces among 
glooming, grumbling Strathmore men, with souls made up 
of superstition and hearts of vengeful truthfulness. So 
much the worse for us if our plans are crushed before my 
lady is truly our own, to cry loudest defiance fearlessly to 
our foes, Eobin, boy” — the old man’s hand came down on 
his son’s, and a look of deep intelligence crept to his wary 
face — Eobin, boy, you’ve but to touch the sparks in your 
girl’s fiery will — win her for yours — and the danger’s past, 
and she’s ours, body and soul, to hurl the alien from her 
possessions, and save the doomed house of Strathmore.” 

Hotly flushed the young man’s cheek. He looked up the 
road and down the road, from rolling sea surf to rippling 
meadow fields, but no rest could he find for his roving eyes 
save on Lady Kilmeny’s fluttering skirt twenty paces ahead. 

I can’t do it, father,” he muttered. She clings to me 
more than to Gavin or Kenneth; but iFs not for love. I 


134 


THE BRIBE ELECT, 


can^t betray her confidence, and throw her back to lean to- 
ward none of us — I can^t be so cruel as that/^ 

She’ll do queer things for pride’s sake,” answered the 
laird, in a low voice. Don’t despair, Robin, but don your 
bravest gallantry after to-day’s ride. We’ll see.” 

And with that he chirruped to his horse, and trotted on 
to join the lady in her impatient advance, and Robin, a 
little flushed yet, and half-timid, came up at her other side. 

Well, my good uncle, have you had your conference?” 
cried my lady, with scornful glances. And is Kilmeny’s 
farther path marked out for her to your satisfaction? and 
is Robin to be the string which ties her to your hand ? and 
is she to be wheedled or driven, which? Don’t, Uncle 
Tyndale, don’t trouble explaining. We’ll proceed with our 
little trip, which has been somewhat delayed. See how 
those fishermen and their wives stare at Strathmore’s cap- 
tive, as if they had never seen her warriors. Are they 
pitying me, eh. Uncle Tyndale?” and the strange girl 
laughed tauntingly, until her dark face grew rich with 
lovely carnation tints, although her eyes angrily glittered 
from window to door of cot and sheiling. 

Doubtless, my Lady Kilmeny hopes to hear flattering 
tidings from her old friends?” quoth Tyndale Strathmore, 
crafty and shy, not suffering her scathing scorn to flow over 
him quite unmatched. Mayhap she expects good news, 
that she laughs so loudjy? Mayhap she thinks to see Mm, 
that she’s dressed so richly?” 

With a scarlet tinge mantling her brow, my lady turned 
round and regarded the laird with one of those steady, un- 
flinching scrutinies of hers which he found so difficult to 
withstand. 

^‘How far do you dare to imagine I could stoop?” she 
breathed through her teeth; then, deigning to wait for no 
reply, she swept onward, turned her steed sharply down a 
side street, and entered the arched gate-way of the Lowland 
steamer dock, with her two kinsmen cantering at her back, 
a goodly sight to the crowds assembled there. 

Few and far between Avere the ships of any size round the 
rude docks of Golspie toAvn. What craft there were seemed 
nothing better than the black, tarred boats and punts of the 
fishermen themselves, Avith here and there a stout merchant 
ship, or a coasting lugger rolled into Dornock from stress 
of Aveather encountered on the boisterous North Sea. The 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


135 


Aberdeen steamer, touching at Fraserburg, Poetsoy, and 
Cromarty, on its devious route, came four times a year to 
Highland Golspie, and formed about the staple connection 
between this out-of-the-way little city of the Gaels and her 
more polished sisters of the Lowlands. 

For fully five minutes my lady had sat immovable as a 
statue upon her horse, with her face turned away from her 
two companions, and her whole attention seemingly absorbed 
by the scene before her, utterly heedless of the general and 
intense interest which her presence created. They could 
not guess what was working in that fiery brain; they might 
not understand the secret tumult and sickening of that 
brave heart. 

When she turned to speak, her face was pallid and 
strained, her lips unsteady, in spite of the fierce gnawing of 
her sharp teeth upon their scarlet wreathing. 

Go, Robin, said Lady Kilmeny, with a strong effort — 

go on board, and fetch my friend 

And Robin, troubled enough, but scarcely liking to sug- 
gest a word, dismounted from his horse, and disdaining to 
wait for the gang-way to be cleared for him, seized a halyard 
and sprang lightly on deck, with his message. 

In spite of himself, a crafty smile glimmered over Tyndale 
Strathmore’s face. Calmly and coolly. Lady Kilmeny bent 
her eyes upon him, and saw it. 

^^What amuses the Laird Tyndale?” she demanded. 

Slightly disconcerted, he drew back from her fixed gaze, 
but soon rallied, none the sweeter for his momentary disad- 
vantage. 

Does my lady forget how she came into my hands?” 

^^My kind kinsman to remind me, I do not forget.” 

I was calling it to mind, lady niece, and it made me 
smile.” 

‘^‘^Does treachery make you smile, Tyndale Strathmore?” 

‘^Ko; but the forgiveness of a weak woman’s heart does, 
my lady.” 

All were not treacherous, sir, neither are all forgiven; 
so save your mirth, my good uncle. I sent a letter to a 
friend, but it was a woman, and as long as I believe her and 
hers to be interested in my welfare, I shall return the inter- 
est to the full.” 

You have yet to learn from them what you winna be- 
lieve from me — that your’re too soft-hearted, proud as you 


136 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


are, Kilmeny, there's no one of them cares where ye are, 
or would come this distance to see you. You'll see." 

My lady looked at him. Perhaps a wild doubt started 
just then through her soul, for she gasped and clenched one 
hand hard upon her heart. 

“I won't believe it — I won't!" she cried, almost plead- 
ingly. 

"‘Now, my lady," said Tyndale Strathmore, with a cun- 
ning look, “ what's the use of building so much of your 
bonnie heart on a feckless auld grandfather and a doited 
auld grandmother, who " 

With a curl of the lip my lady wheeled from him, may- 
hap with a prescience of a third presence, for the messenger 
was standing behind her alone. 

“ There was no passenger for my Lady of Strathmore," 
said Robin, with downcast eyes. “The people who came 
to-day were all from Nairn, and have gone up to the Ork- 
neys. Don't despair, though. Cousin Kilmeny; we'll go up 
to the post-ofhce; the mails are opened by now." 

“Yes, we'll try the post-office," echoed the laird, twisting 
his gray mustaches and quietly smiling. 

With a quiet, almost bewildered look back at the hissing 
steamer, and the shouting crowd. Lady Kilmeny followed 
her escorts off the pier up the smoky street and down a 
noisy thoroughfare to the post-office, and ere they stopped 
before the door, the postmaster came out with a letter in his 
hand which, with a low reverence to the lady of Strathmore, 
he delivered to her. 

She looked at it, and she looked in the pitiless face of her 
crafty kinsman with a faint, anguished smile of attempted 
triumph, and she turned to the anxious, sympathetic face 
of her Cousin Robin as if for some small support, and then 
she toyed with the sealed initials on the envelope. 

Without a word the laird led the way out of Golspie to 
the steep, ascending shore-road toward home, and his silent 
companions followed mechanically. Then Tyndale Strath- 
more glanced once at his niece's still face and tightened the 
reins in his hand. 

“ Read it," he said, then put spurs to his horse and left 
her undisturbed. 

Robin also, with uneasy glances, deviated on to the heath- 
ery moor, and left my lady with her letter. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


137 


She tore it open, and read with lightning speed each 
page. 

A long and elaborate letter it must have been, for she 
went over it again and yet again, as if its meaning could 
not pierce her slow brain; and she weighed each word and 
studied each word so long that the city of Golspie was far 
behind before my lady looked up from her Lowland news. 
And she gazed out over the sea, with eyes which burned 
like great lamps within some fragile porcelain vase, for her 
face was thin and whiter than the breast of each curling 
wave, and colder than the rocks which were washed by the 
beating surf and dried by the bitter wind from the porth, 
and the moaning of a great desolation was burning like 
corpse-lights in those wild eyes. 

My lady strained her palfrey^s bridle with a vehemence 
which sent every silver bell jingling in merry company, and 
like an arrow she shot forward, with a terrible laugh, low 
and ominous, past the astonished laird leisurely trotting on 
ahead, and the dumfounded Eobin, picking his way idly 
across a peat-morass, onward, fleetly and wildly, with a ter- 
rifled horse, which spurred the turf in clods behind him, 
through the jagged whins and the sharp sand-pass to the 
edge of a high crag where the sea-gulls whirled in eddies, 
and the sand-martins built their nests, and the crawling 
foam shoaled into shiny caverns full fifty Jeet below. 

Stop, stop, Kilmeny!’"’ shouted Eohin Strathmore, white 
with horror, and smiting his horse with desperate cruelty 
as he plunged helplessly deeper into the surging morass. 

^^Fly father, fly! Shell do it! Fly, for Heaven^s love!” 
he cried. 

And the wily schemer of this family stood up in his stir- 
rups, and looked at his niece struggling fiercely with her 
afirighted steed on the confines of the awful caldron, and 
grasping the sweet musical reins with angry hands, and 
scourging the animal as it reared shuddering upon its 
haunches, and for a moment his face blanched as he thought 
perhaps he had drawn the strain with too sudden a hand on 
this wild scion of his blood. But he soon rallied, and rode 
over to help his son with a calm air of assurance. 

Whist, Eobin!” he rejoined, seizing his horse by the 
bridle, and landing him upon a solid rock; ^^dinna fear, 
dinna fear. Yon lassie has got oure muckle grit to gang 


138 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


cure the rocks for spite. Haud awa, Robin lad, and see 
how the dose works. 

What have you done, father?’^ demanded the young 
man, with a trembling voice, ^^'what made you meddle with 
the lassie to drive her to this distraction? What^s come 
o^er Kilmeny?^^ 

Wait, Robin, w'ait. It maun aye be a storm before there^s 
a calm. Shea’ll be a brave, bonnie lady to Strathmore after 
this — see, my lady^s conquered at last.^^ 

The figure on the precipice ceased the unequal strife with 
her horse. She soothed him with coaxing hand, and fiung 
away her jeweled riding- whip, and when he stood motion- 
less, and docile as a lamb, she plucked the ill-fated missive 
from her belt, held it aloft, and with clutched hand raised, 
and her eyes upon heaven^’s highest dome, seemed to register 
a vow. 

Then the letter was torn into a thousand pieces, and the 
wild wind bore them whirling among the circling sea-birds, 
and my Lady Kilmeny turned her horse, and walked softly 
back to her kinsmen. She held a hand out to each of them, 
and, with quiet words, thus she spoke: 

I have cast ofi the old life, and Heaven has my vow. 
Take me, uncle and cousin, and devote me to your house. 
Kilmeny Strathmore shall be the maid to avert your ^ double 
doom.^ 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE GEM DROPPED FROM THE CIRCLE. 

Alexander Buccleugh was very ill — so desperately ill that 
he lay in the quietest bed-chamber of Lady-Bank for two 
days, without consciousness enough to look up at Florice 
weeping over him, and anxiously watching him night and 
day. 

As the captain had said, if anything could rouse Florice, 
the greater suffering of Alexander could rouse her; she 
hung on his breath, and counted the feeble fiutterings of 
his pulse with intensest anxiety. 

It seemed as if in the great shock which had riven heart 
from heart, these two poor, bleeding souls clung to each 
other with fondest fidelity, and each Hied to fan the sink- 
ing flame as the torch burned low. 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


139 


There were pallid faces of anxious import, and an awful 
hush through the house of sorrow, as the inanimate suiferer 
lay in that long, dread trance; and the slow, drooping 
hours seemed but to deepen the heavy shadows round the 
closed eyes; and the physician, with a serious face, took his 
diagnosis and left his prescription, and rode away with 
many a sigh. 

The captain, poor, oppressed soul, tortured with suspense, 
and scourged by remorse, wandered in and out, undoing 
Mrs. Ellathorne’s careful arrangements, glowing with his 
beaming blue eyes down at his fallen friend, grieving over 
his Florice's fatigue, and perpetually proving unmanageable 
to the pale, depressed Jessie Buccleugh. 

And meantime, what of the gay Lady Tresilyan? 

The captain scanned in vain every passenger list and 
on dits of high life in the fashionable gazettes and journals, 
but saw no announcement of Lord and Lady Tresilyan's de- 
parture; and at last, on the third day, he girded up his re- 
luctant soul and made a descent on Holyrood, and inquired 
for Lord Tresilyan. 

^^Lord Tresilyan and his suite of attendants left the palace 
last evening, at precisely seven o'clock, to join the queen at 
Balmoral, as far as I understand," was the answer of the 
servitor who answered his knock. 

Only last evening?" exclaimed the captain, thunder- 
struck. 

Her ladyship was indisposed since Thursday evening, 
which delayed their starting then, and she only recovered 
sufficiently to be removed last evening." 

Can you tell me how long his lordship proposes remain- 
ing at Balmoral?" 

‘‘1 cannot, sir; there was some talk of their proceeding 
to the Highlands, but wffiether the arrangement will be car- 
ried out, I cannot say. I only gathered what knowledge I 
possess from his lordship's valet." 

The captain contrived to thank the '•man for his civility, 
and turned away, utterly defeated. 

It was undeniable now — Clencora had undisguisedly 
thrown them off; she had scoffed at his earnest request for 
one interview to save her honor, and had washed her hands 
of them all, in cold blood, with no attempt at even a mes- 
sage to her outraged sister. * 

She had climbed up to grandeur on the neck of little 


140 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Florice, and left her to pine into her grave under the shock; 
and at the thought of that, poor Anthony^s fiery temper got 
the better of him once more. 

^^Let her go!^^ he cried, shaking his hand vindictively. 

She’s not worth our sorrowing and searching after. 
Let her go, all sails set and a stiff breeze, if she likes. 
She’ll drift into the whirlpool some time, as she ought to do, 
and we’ll cast our anchor in calm water without her. Ah, 
poor Buccleugh! heavy’ll be her reckoning if he founders 
in this storm!” 

When Captain Drummond returned to his woeful house 
in bonnie Gower lane, there was a stern resolve in his de- 
meanor. 

He came among his little family and spoke to them all in 
this manner : 

When Glencora Calvert was lost to us we mourned for 
her sorely, and searched for her untiringly; and that was 
right, for we believed her worth our grief and our search- 
ing. But now. I’ve proved it over and over again, that our 
lost girl whom we mourned so sorely went of her own free 
will and pleasure — that she looks with disgust back on her 
innocent life with us, and that she desires all connection to 
cease between us. Come here, girlie, your little face is 
white and thin — you’ll listen to what Anthony says, and 
know that it’s for your good, will you, girlie? Hester, you 
are the calmest and most dispassionate here; I’ve always 
followed your judgment, sister. Well, do you think we’ve 
wasted enough precious love on an ingrate?” 

‘^1 don’t know, brother. Oh, don’t expect me to feel 
that way!” sobbed Mrs. Ellathorne, quite breaking down 
for the first time. I can’t think of Glennie as any other 
than what she seemed to us — my heart’s pride — oh, 
Anthony!” 

But- it’s right!” broke in Jessie Buccleugh, fiercely; 
^Hook at these wrecks of happiness — look at my cousin sick 
to death in yonder bedroom — look — look at Florice’s thin 
face — realize your own heavy anguish and say if it is just 
that tears be shed for the betrayer alone. Let us care for 
our own broken-spirited loved ones, and tie up the loyal 
circle without envying the presence of a traitress.” 

Captain Drummond looked at the girl’s fair, spirited 
face, her sparkling eyes, and golden hair fiung proudly back 
upon her curving neck, and as a remembrance of what he 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


141 


had known between her and Alexander stole upon him, he 
thought perhaps it might be well that it should be so, for 
she was loyal to the core. 

And what says girlie whispered the captain, support- 
ing his poor crushed rose with gentle arms. 

She raised her meek, suffering eyes to him for a moment, 
with a look which smote him cruelly. 

My sister has been very hard to us,” moaned Florice, 

and has showed us a strange distrust in avoiding our 
confidence as she has done, and this being the case, we 
should cease pursuing her until she comes to us of her own 
accord and explains her reasons, which I assure you she 
will do in spite of her apparent heartlessness, as soon as it 
is possible; but oh, Anthony, don^t ask us to close our 
hearts against her — remember she is always my beloved 
sister, whatever her faults, and as long as I am in this 
family circle, her place must be kept for her at my side.” 

And what if Alexander dies?” spoke up Jessie, with 
knitted brows. 

Jessie, hush!” exclaimed Florice, raising her hand with 
sudden reproof; ^^you are too harsh and often seem to for- 
get that she is my sister. This might never have happened 
if ” 

The words died on her lips; could she be so ungenerous 
as to sting her friend with a knowledge of the estrangement 
she had caused? 

implore you, Jessie,” she continued, more gently, to 
think more kindly of Glencora than you do. Alexander, 
who of us all has suffered the deepest anguish, still clings 
to her good faith toward him, unshaken; his whole being 
is enwrapped by a belief in her innocence, and you see how 
near he has been brought to the end by a doubt being cast 
upon her. Let him have his trust unbroken until he is 
strong enough to bear the trial, and erase those cold innuen- 
does, which, even in his terible prostration, have more than 
once flushed his face with agony. W e have all been wronged, 
but you, Jessie, who suffer least, why should you blame 
most ?” 

The girl turned abashed from Florice's fiery regard, and 
averted her face from them all to look down the sunny ave- 
nue; and perhaps a foreboding remorse blanched the pink 
in those rounded cheeks, for she shivered and held the cur- 
tain back with a shaking hand. 


142 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


We^ll devote our present energies to bringing back poor 
Alexander to health/^ said Mrs. Ellathorne, ‘‘^and we^lllove 
each other all the better that the circle is so small. 

So the shorn little circle dispersed again, and Florice went 
back to her self-constituted task as sick-nurse, to soothe 
and animate, by every judicious act, the now restless and 
feverish invalid whose alternations of excitement and de- 
pression were something terrible to behold. 

Arduous as were little Florice's duties, she clung to them 
with a pertinacity which never flagged, and which perhaps 
saved her from becoming hopelessly melancholy. 

Truly her devotion to Alexander was the unction which 
prevented her sick heart from bleeding itself to death, and 
the bitterest trial which could befall her in those silent days 
was the frequent determination of Jessie Buccleugh to re- 
lieve her of her patient for a day or two, and as she gene- 
rally succeeded in carrying her point, poor little Florice 
would make a day of mourning of it, weeping in her loveFs 
tender arms, or grieving sadly on her little bed, where she 
strove to catch the balm of slumber. 

Now, it fell on a Sunday, nine days after Alexander had 
been taken ill, and when the crisis of his malady was at 
hand, that Miss Buccleugh announced her intention of tak- 
ing her turn at the side of her cousin, and nothing would 
satisfy her but that Florice must go to church with the 
captain. 

Not a word, Florice,” said Jessie, who could be very 
willful at times. You are bleached with confinement, and 
have kept vigil for two nights. Get away into the sunshine 
and Ifll take care of my cousin, and Mrs. Ellathorne shall 
sit with me to watch for any change if you are afraid of me. 
She shall go with you, sha^nT she, captain ?” 

Anthony being thus put up to it, pleaded hard, and Flo- 
rice, with a tender look for him, but a heart that was like 
to break, slowly went up stairs to prepare. 

With what listless fingers she braided her brown hair, and 
banded it, plainly under her simple white bonnet; absently 
she directed the stupid but good-natured waiting-maid to 
assist her toilet. 

It is to be observed here that it was no longer Jean Mal- 
colm, but a strong country lass somewhere from Elgin, who 
now officiated as Miss CalverFs maid. Malcolm had taken 
her departure about four weeks ago to enjoy quite a com- 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


143 


fortable legacy of a farm and house in Cornwall which had 
been left her by an English cousin. This legacy had caused 
her to depart very suddenly, just the evening before Mr.- 
Wynde had strolled out to Lady-Bank to honor the ladyV 
maid with a special call, which was unfortunate, for Lie 
tortuously inclined gentleman seemed grievously disap- 
pointed at being too late at least to bid her good-by. 

The sweet-toned bells of every church and chapel were 
pealing forth their gracious invitation, when Florice and 
Anthony Drummond, having walked rapidly down to the 
city, entered the first house of prayer in theii way, and sank 
with the dying chimes to offer brief homage to their great 
High Priest. 

There were ladders of tinted sunshine streaming across 
chancel and aisle from the oriel windows, and the great 
organ pealed a seraphic Handel chorus. 

Then a gentle hush, a rustle and sigh, as the immense 
multitude knelt and the service began. 

At first Florice devoted herself strictly to her devotions, 
joining reverently and softly in the murmuring response, 
and not until the sermon had commenced did her eye wan- 
der from the little blue velvet prayer-book, and the cap- 
tain’s brown hand holding it for her. 

Captain Drummond was sitting, certainly it must be 
confessed, in a very quiescent mood, but quite conscious 
yet, and listening with much edification to his simple soul, 
and agreeing in his innocent heart to every word uttered 
by the bland clergyman, when he was all at once trans- 
ported from the vague, indistinct field of the abstract to 
the startling, ever thrilling turmoil of the present. 

A hand came down like a steel-trap upon his own, cold, 
vibrating, convulsive in its grief; a face wild, white, and 
insignificant, looked up into his, and two straightly leveled 
eyes still streamed forth their intense gaze beyond him into 
the middle aisle of the building. 

Heavens, Florice! What — whatf^ 

The captain could gaze no more. Two or three turned 
round their heads to look at him, and he was fain to keep 
silence, for he was one of your men who did not know how 
to whisper, but seeing that she seemed deaf to his question 
he followed the direction of her eyes, hoping to find the 
solution of her startling expression. 


144 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


Going slowly from pew to pew, his eyes rested on one in 
which were four persons. 

The first near the door was a stout, portly gentleman, in 
full military costume. General Malmsbury he knew him 
to be, and apparently that was his pew. 

The next occupant was a tall, distinguished-looking per- 
son, with an extremely pale, classical face, large, pene- 
trating violet eyes of singular power, a slight, drooping 
mustache, and brown, crisp locks, wreathing back from a 
very fine brow; the expression of this face was very remark- 
able; the commingling of hauteur and gentleness, com- 
mand and playfulness, severity and tenderness, would have 
puzzled a much more skilled physiologist than Captain 
Drummond. He looked at the two ladies. 

One instantly set his heart beating. He had seen that 
face before, with its melting violet eyes, its carmine cheeks, 
and its heavily braided coronet of amber hair. Graceful 
and elegant as before, but more queenly looking in her 
enforced gravity and sobriety of demeanor, sat Lady Clara 
Tresilyan, with her eyes on the clergyman and her gold- 
clasped church service between her fingers. 

But her companion — what was she? 

For a moment the captain^s heart melted as if with fire, 
and a tremulous haze before his eyes hid their object from 
his view; then, with a mighty effort, he surmounted his 
agitation and surveyed her calmly. 

A velvet curtain, half-drawn, hid her from most of the 
congregation, but her half-averted face was fully revealed 
to him, and at last — at last he beheld what was no more 
sweet, lost Glencora, but brilliant Lady Tresilyan. 

Yes, there she was, fair as ever, gayer than ever, bloom- 
ing, proud, triumphant. Her face was rounded into curving 
dimples; her eyes wore a merrier, more arch glimmer in 
their delicious depths than before, and positively — my lady 
looked as if life had just commenced to be worth having, 
when she fled from the sphere heaven gave her, and spurned 
the hearts that heaven blessed her with. 

With one long, astounded stare. Captain Drummond took 
in this much, and dropped his eyes, dazed with the flash 
of my lady^s diamonds, to my lady^s pale sister at his side. 

Florice — it's she," he muttered. 

The little sister raised her soft eyes for a moment to his 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


145 


face, and her generous sisterly devotion spoke out in her 
whispered entreaty: 

I)on% guardie — don^t judge her. She hasn^t seen us 
yet.^" 

She^ll nok complain of that long/^ vowed the captain, 
arranging himself so as to face her directly, and resuming 
his survey. 

If Captain Drummond had been a keen physiologist, he 
would have been ten times more amazed at the changing 
expressions of that lovely face than he was, deep as was his 
astonishment. There was no shadow of apprehension 
or uneasiness — no sign ever so artfully vailed of 
hidden fear, to be traced in my lady^s glances, as now and 
again she swept a quiet gaze round the majestic building, 
and marked here a face to be studied, there a painted 
window to admire. 

She had been here in this church long ago with her 
guardian, when little Florice came up the aisle, holding 
her hand and looking over the pew-doors with wide, 
childish eyes, and they had sat in this very seat where now 
he and the shadow of that former laughing Florice were 
sitting to-day. Did that by -gone memory of purer days flit 
back to my lady^s thoughts, as idly her eyes roamed about 
and fastened on central points of interest? 

There was an indescribable change in her appearance, the 
watchful captain marked, but failed to deflne it. 

It seemed as if an impalpable vail had been thrown 
daintily over the vivid display of feelings which were wont 
to sparkle on Glencora CalverFs features. 

Small marvel in that,"’"’ thought the captain, scorningly. 
^^Dissimulation is her daily food, and she must have been a 
finished actress before she left us.^^ 

There was a bland, even honeyed expression about her 
mouth and brow, which, taken in connection with her 
large, careless, arch eyes, was indescribably fascinating, and 
every queenly movement asserted easy independence and 
much vivacity of character. 

^^How can she keep it up?^^ wondered straightforward 
Anthony. She must be a sorceress. Why, if I’d never 
seen that woman before, I’d swear she was radiantly 
happy.” 

My Lady Tresilyan turned her sumptuous head, and every 
cunning spray of simulated dew-drops on her marvelous 


146 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


French coiffeur flashed like trembling sparks, and her 
velvet black eyes fell on Florice Calvert, straight and un- 
faltering. 

Calm, sweet, and interested was that glance, then with a 
coming shadow of suppressed concern in her lovely eyes, 
she glanced over at the pale, clear-cut face of my Lord 
Audley opposite, and conveyed his regards to the little 
plebeian sister, and smiled. 

Ah, poor Florice! With a start, and a shuddering gasp 
she shrank back, with her tender heart pierced through 
and through; then, as if she could not believe Glencora^s 
heartlessness, she turned one long, wistful look upon my 
lady, and face to face they regarded each other at last, 
over the impassable gulf which treachery had placed be- 
tween them. 

Lady Tresilyan was really much interested; she bent for- 
ward, and with an amiable half-smile, she seemed trying to 
make friendly overtures to the little girl in the white bon- 
net, Over the breadth of the church, and as my lord had 
been called upon to examine the stranger too, he looked at 
her condescendingly with his penetrating violet eyes, as if it 
was a very pretty little face indeed, and then, with a quick 
gla;ice at lowering-faced Captain Drummond, he looked 
over to his fair lady, and they exchanged glances. Then 
while Florice sank back for the last time, and lifted up her 
face no more, gay Lady Tresilyan whispered in my Lady 
Clara^s ear, and she turned her Spanisfx-looking face to look 
at ihe plebeian^ and instantly began to communicate some- 
thing very volubly to her ladyship, her eyes fixed on Flor- 
ice^s face all the time, and my lady looking amused, until 
an interruption came in the shape of the people rising up, 
and the organ preluding for the closing hymn. 

Courage, my girl,'’^ muttered Anthony Drummond, 
drawing the mechanical form of Florice before a pillar, in 
order to secretly support her with his arm. “ WeTe not 
browbeat yet. Fll unmask yon painted hypocrite if the 
lordling should drive his coach and span over me. TheyVe 
got no cockle-boat to deal with.^^ 

Slowly the mass of people began to move out. Captain 
Drummond remarked with some relief that the aristocrats 
in the generahs pew still kept their seats, and he also no- 
ticed with an indescribable sensation of anger, that Lord 
Tregilyan had risen and drawn the velvet curtain quite 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


147 


across the rail, thus shielding completely the fair face of my 
lady from the gaze of the common people. 

As the crowd became less dense, Anthony gave Florice 
his arm, and leisurely made his way out among the last. 

Be strong now, girlie, he whispered; ^^be strong for 
one la^t effort to move yon heart of flint. 

They walked down through the church-yard and the rows 
of yew trees; they walked through the groups of richly- 
dressed people into the street, and after one glance up and 
down the long line of carriages in waiting for the worship- 
pers, the grim captain walked up to a splendid barouche, 
brilliant with silver trappings and armorial hearings, with 
two white, prancing steeds, two postilions and a flunky, all 
drawn up beneath a spreading cedar. 

With a bitter, sneering eye, Anthony Drummond sur- 
veyed all this grandeur, and its luxuriance was not oil to 
the waters. 

With a quick movement one of the postilions mounted 
his horse, crying: 

My lord waits. 

The other followed his example, the flunky mounted be- 
hind, and my lord's equipage swept. round, taking up all the 
broad street,and drew up close to the curb-stone at the iron 
gate, so that my lady's dainty foot might touch as little of 
plebeian ground as possible. 

General Malmsbury gallantly handed Lady Clara to her 
seat, and the brilliant pair behind the railings emerged, 
with a sweep of sheeny silks and priceless lace, and the pair 
outside the railings also drew near, and confronted my lord 
and lady at last. 

‘^Glencora!" sighed Florice, in a rushing whisper. 

My lady was gathering the folds of her robe, her prayer- 
book, bouquet, and parasol in one hand, preparatory to giv- 
ing her other to my Lord Tresilyan, thus to enter the 
carriage, and she turned her face quite the other way to 
laugh in silver tones. 

^^Now, general, it requires as much maneuvering as you 
would exercise to form a double square of raw recruits, for 
me to arrange all this miscellany of religion and vanity. 
Ah! thanks, general. Now, my lord." 

Her delicate foot rested on the polished step, her dainty 
hand rested on her husband's palm, but my lord was look- 
ing round haughtily, for a fierce, threatening face came 


148 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


between them, and the drooping figure of the little girl in 
the white bonnet had disappeared behind the portly form of 
General Malmsbury. 

Girl, have you the heart to go in this way?’' ejaculated 
Anthony Drummond, almost choking with indignation. 

Gan you dare me to my face, traitress?” 

My lady turned pale, as well as she might, and eyed him 
wildly. For a brief moment the bland mask was dropped, 
and my lady was looking at this interloper with conster- 
nation. 

‘‘^Beware, sir!” exclaimed Lord Tresilyan. Stand 
back, and do not interfere with her ladyship.” 

I claim her as a member of my house,” uttered the 
unfortunate captain, stamping his foot. demand one 
interview on behalf of ” 

Enter, Lady Tresilyan,” said my lord, in a low tone. 

He hurried her in, took the carriage-door in his hand, 
thus guarding the entrance, and looked full in the captain’s 
face with his calm, electrical eyes. 

If once you exercised authority over her, you cannot 
do so now, sir. I acknowledge she was of your family once, 
but she is my wife now, and under my protection. If you 
have any proposals to make, write to her ladyship and 
explain your mode of action. I have no doubt justice will 
be done you; but excuse me if I permit no such interview 
as you demand to take place on Sunday, and in the public 
streets of Edinburgh.” 

He bowed low, gave a signal to the postilions, entered the 
carriage, and slammed the door, and in an instant the gay 
equipage was rolling down the street, but not before a cer- 
tain sentence of my lady’s reached the stunned ears of Cap- 
tain Drummond: 

Audley — oh, my lord, he is an impostor! I never saw 
him before. Don’t believe him.” 

And then the slightly blanched face of lovely Lady 
Tresilyan flashed out for a last glance at her deserted 
confronter, and the little sister was for a second time for- 
saken. 

And, perhaps for the first time in his life, Anthony 
Drummond, white as chalk with passion, uttered a fierce 
imprecation as he snapped his stout cane in two, dashed it 
on the ground, and spurned the broken pieces with his 
foot. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


149 


“ As these fragments lie in the dust, so lies her memory 
beneath our scorn!'" aspirated he, between his teeth. 

Drop her name from your heart, my girl. Let her be as 
dead to us. She'll never more be troubled by those she has 
deserted." 

And Florice, with her head drooping to her bosom, her 
face calm and cold, answered never a word, but walked by 
her guardian's side, awakened from her dream of trust, 
through the parish streets and the flowery lane to Lady- 
Bank. And thus it was that the gem was dropped from 
love's circle at last. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE WRAITH OF STRATHMORE. 

The crisis has passed. Alexander still lives, and scarcely 
lives. 

How shall those pitiful hearts that love the wreck of 
spirited manhood as they never loved its prime, fan the 
feeble spark into stronger glowing, and hold him still on 
the earth that had proved too bitter for him. 

Off with you to Dysart, and bathe in the healthy 
brine!" counseled old Dr. Potion, the merry and wise. 
‘‘No confederation with the rebel Orief here, sir; get away 
and flght with the salt foam and the green sea, till you're 
too tired to mind aught." 

So as soon as he was able to be moved. Captain Drum- 
mond carried him off to the quaint old town of Dysart, 
where the walks were fairest and the bathing best, and 
where quiet brooded like a heavenly somnolence, unbroken 
by aught but dreams of tenderest nature. 

The captain located him in an obscure boarding-house, 
with an old lady of the name of Mrs. Reid, who, from the 
first moment that she saw her pale lodger stepping from the 
Kirkcaldy cab and coming to her little boarding-house 
leaning meekly on the arm of the stalwart captain, regarded 
him with watchful sympathy and the kind tyranny of a 
mother's care. 

The captain, promising to come over from Edinburgh 
every day to see him, and, wringing his white, wasted hand 
with an access of brimming pity, hurried away to hide his 


150 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


swelling heart, and Alexander stretched himself on the 
white chintz sofa in Mrs. Keid’s cool, dark parlor, and 
closed his aching eyes, once more drifting alone with his 
grief on the sullen waters of his changed life-stream. 

And then the sweet September days crept on, and the 
unhappy man crept out of his dreamy retreat to wander 
with trembling limbs over the golden sands and to sit in a 
sunny nook on the western sea line between Dysart and 
Wemyss — a sunny nook in a cleft of the hoary rock. 

Here, on beds of brackens, day by day, lay Alexander, 
till a sturdy step, scrambling over briny rock and ripland 
tarn, would warn him of the approach of the captain, who 
had come to sit down by him, with cheery face and hearty 
voice, and comfort him. 

Gradually, as Alexander gained strength, he extended his 
walks. 

One day he went down toward Kirkcaldy to meet the 
captain, whom he expected by the noon boat, and having 
traversed the distance (four miles) rather too hastily, and 
finding himself some thirty minutes too soon, he turned 
aside from the beach, which way he had gone, in preference 
to the turnpike, and entering Lord Roslin^s grounds was 
fain to lay himself down on a grassy bank by the gravelly 
walk, overhung by a spreading yew. 

The air was very sweet; Alexander's head ached exceed- 
ingly; his head was heavy with the noon sun and wind, and 
he fell asleep with his book for a pillow. 

And as he slumbered, deep and dreamless, two ladies 
tripped daintily down the level walk. 

They paused at the foot of the spreading yew, where lay 
the unconscious sleeper, and with arrested eyes they noted 
the motionless figure. 

Asleep whispered one, pointing to his pale face, half 
concealed by his arm. The other bent over him with 
sweet concern, to listen to his faint breathing. 

Truly he seems to be too motionless to be only asleep, 
poor gentleman replied she, quickly. wish the 

gentlemen would come away from their prosy discussion 
and speak to this person. 

In uttering this her voice unconsciously rose, and the next 
instant Alexander started from his slumber, raised himself 
on his elbow, and looked up at his disturber. 

And, oh, is heaven good to him at last! Oh, breaking 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


151 


heart, break not yet. Oh, blinding eyes, fail not for one 
sweet moment, for is not this, once more under heaven, lost 
Glencora? 

She gazes at his entranced face, his thin, sorrow-bleached 
face, once so comely; his rapt eyes dwell on her own, and 
she stands confused, with wistful silence. Will she breathe 
no little word to this old time love, to teach him she is 
noble still, and faithful to her vows? Her hand is stealing 
to her companion's arm; she turns her lovely face away in 
sore perplexity. Will she leave him so? 

^^Does Glencora remember me no more?" whispered 
Alexander, with parched lips. 

His sudden gesture detained her more than his words. 
She could scarcely have heard them. Alexander had started 
to his feet, and leaned trembling against the yew, tall, 
feeble, and impassioned. 

^‘^Are you in trouble, sir?" replied the lady, sweetly, 
fearlessly retracing her step, and drawing her mobile-faced 
friend with her. 

Alexander was leaning heavily on his staff, and it trem- 
bled under his hand. He read the imperious mark of seem- 
ing unconsciousness, and a cry broke from his outraged 
soul. 

^^Oh, Glencora!" wailed her ruined bridegroom. 

She grew pale as death; her lustrous eyes were blinded 
with tears; her perfect lips contracted in a spasm of pain; 
her exquisite countenance faded fiom radiance to sharp 
dismay; the mask was dropped; another woman stood be- 
fore him. 

Then sudden amaze overspread the face of Alexander 
Buccleugh. He bent forward, and searched her orient eyes, 
her magnificent braid of jetty hue, her full, commanding 
figure, and bewilderment took the place of uncertainty. 

‘‘Is this Glencora Calvert?” cried he, wildly. ''In 
Heaven's name, speak to me!" 

"No, I am not Glencora Calvert," she replied, in a trem- 
bling voice. "lam Rosecleer Strathmore, married to Lord 
Audley Tresilyan." 

The delicious gladness lost from her mellow tones, the 
rich carmine chased from her rounded cheek, she eluded 
the lover's recognition still further ; the impalpable vail 
which the captain had observed thrown over the vivid dis- 
play of feeling on Glencora Calvert's features seemed now 


152 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


to darken into a perfect night of impervious disguise; two 
faces could scarcely express themselves more differently. 

And Lady Tresilyan, the last of the four ladies of honor, 
was no more Glencora Calvert than her three companions. 

Alexander drew back dizzily, and turned an ashy face 
from them. The revulsion of feeling was excruciating. 

For where now was sweet Glencora? 

Lady Tresilyan, with sudden resolution, turned from her 
silent interlocutor to Lady Clara, her sister-in-law, who, 
with quick intuition, had divined the truth, and understood 
the situation; and my lady said, with brave self-command: 

Clara, I beg you to go to the castle and send Audley 
here, that we may both hear this strange story; for, believe 
me, my dear, there is an awful significance involved in its 
meaning which my lord must interpret for me. You shall 
amuse the general while we confer, and I shall stay with 
this gentleman till my husband comes. 

Lady Clara pressed her hand in sympathy, and obediently 
withdrew; and my lady seated herself on the grassy bank 
under the yew^, and gently requested Alexander to do the 
same. 

Thus aroused from his bitter reverie, he nerved himself 
for an interview with this witching double of his bride, and 
sank down near her, with a profound sigh. 

She was looking anxiously at him, her black, dilated eyes 
and troubled brows belying the enforced calmness with 
which she waited for her unknown companion to open the 
conversation. 

He made an effort, and at last spoke. 

You are not she; you are her shadow — her twin. Lady 
Tresilyan, where is she 

He spoke, but in unreasoning misery; but my lady clasped 
her white hands over her heart, and sat white as any haw- 
thorn bud, with a low, shuddering cry escaping from pale 
parted lips. 

y Who are you? What have you to do with my doom?^^ 
cried she, wildly. 

I am her betrothed; I seek my own. If you know any- 
thing about her who bears your likeness, line for line, I ad- 
jure you. Lady Tresilyan, to tell me. I have suffered more 
than such as you can understand.^" 

His feeble tones, his simple words and despair, wrung 
her heart. 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


153 


I know nothing of this lost lady whom you mistook me 
for. Alas, I cannot relieve your grief. But tell me, am I 
so very like her?^^ 

The terror depicted on her face as she asked this, could 
not but arrest Alexander's attention. He examined her 
once more with torturing remembrance to guide him, and 
at the end of the survey replied, with deep emotion: 

Lady Tresilyan, so accurately are you her counterpart, 
that not only I, her husband-elect, believed you to be my 
betrothed, but her sister, on two occasions, saw and recog- 
nized you for Glencora Calvert, who had never been parted 
from her for more than a few months at a time. So close 
is the resemblance that Captain Drummond, her previous 
guardian, spoke to you in the street as the Glencora who 
had deserted us; and friends of unprejudiced judgment 
looked upon you and called you Glencora." 

She leaned back faintly against the gnarled trunk of the 
yew, and passed her lawn handkerchief across her cold lips, 
before she could articulate her reply. 

^^This is very dreadful knowledge for me to learn,^' said 
she. I dare scarcely suffer myself to reason out the mean- 
ing of such a fearful coincidence. Sir, allow me to address 
you by name." 

Alexander Buccleugh, my lady," uttered he, simply. 

^‘^Mr. Buccleugh, I feel intense relief on your account, 
though augmented horror on my own. Ever since the un- 
known gentleman accosted my husband and me in the 
street, I have been endeavoring to trace him out, that I 
might undeceive him on the point of my fancied identity 
with his lost friend. As he spoke that Sunday, both Lord 
Tresilyan and I supposed him to be some agent from my 
Highland House, which is at variance with me, seeking to 
interfere with my liberty, and it was not till Lady Clara, 
my lord's sister, recovered from her astonishment, and re- 
lated the visit of Captain Drummond and Miss Florice (Jal- 
vert to herself at the house of the Duchess of Airley, that 
we understood the mistake. Then it was too late to find 
him. Now, Mr. Buccleugh, believe me, I never knew of 
the existence of Miss Calvert, much less of her extraordinary 
likeness to myself, until these circumstances were brought 
to my knowledge as you have heard. From my heart I 
sympathize with your suspense and anxiety, and now it only 
remains to be seen whether I have not a right to share 


154 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


both. How comes it to pass that the Highland Rosecleer, 
Lady of Strathmore, bears the same lineaments as Miss Cal- 
vert, the Edinburgh maiden. To me this is a fearful ques- 
tion.'’^ 

Eegarding him with eyes filled with gloom, and brows 
dark with suppressed consternation, my lady linked her 
gemmed and quivering fingers in her silken lap, and waited 
again for some possible ray of blessed light to pierce the 
gloom of her doubts. 

Let us leave the main question for a time,” suggested 
Alexander, shaking ofi his own anguish at the spectacle of 
hers, ^‘^and fathom this mystery that troubles you so. May 
not such a resemblance be but coincidence?” 

Oh, that it was!” sighed she. But, still, it is more 
than coincidence; that fact I already know. I pray you to 
give me more knowledge, that I may draw some conclusion 
speedily. Who is Glencora Calvert? Tell me her history, 
if you please.” 

Lady Tresilyan, I can tell you nothing to clear up the 
marv«l,” began Alexander, thoughtfully. Yet listen in- 
tently to the facts I shall recount, and satisfy yourself that 
I cannot. Miss Calvert and her sister were the daughters 
of a gentleman of the name of Howard D. Calvert, who 
was, some thirty years ago, a judge in India. He had mar- 
ried a Miss Lucy Drummond, a distant connection of the 
young Captain Drummond who accosted you in the street. 
On a visit home to Britain he saw her in Edinburgh, and 
determined to carry her back to Calcutta with him. They 
had been married two years before he proposed returning to 
his post; and, on the passage out, Glencora was born. Judge 
Calvert returned again to Edinburgh at the end of seven 
years, with his wife, Glencora, just then seven, and Florice, 
a baby of a few months of age. Mrs. Calvert was failing 
rapidly in the enervating climate, and only came home to 
die. On her decease, Mr. Calvert placed his children, prior 
to his last return to Calcutta, under the guardianship of the 
Eev. Mr. Ellathorne, a collage companion of his own, and 
life-long friend, who was married to Captain Drummond'’s 
only sister. Miss Hester Drummond. Mr. Calvert, shortly 
after his arrival in India, fell a victim to yellow fever; so 
the children were left in the house of Mr. Ellathorne till 
his death, after five years’ guardianship, when he bequeathed 
the helpless orphans to the care of Anthony Drummond, 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


155 


then a young sea-captain of twenty-two, the girls being, re- 
spectively, of the ages of twelve and five. They have both 
lived in his house in Gower lane, under the constant eye of 
Mrs. Ellathorne, until the twenty-fifth of last July, when 
w^e saw Glencora for the last time. Lady Tresilyan, what 
is there in this plain relation to cause you so much agita- 
tion?^^ 

My lady^s white hands, clasped in her silken lap, were 
strained together till the rosy nails were bloodless; her trem- 
ulous lips could scarcely frame a question. 

What age is Glencora Calvert ?^^ 

And Alexander, with a prescience of coming light, re- 
plied : 

She was twenty-four in May.” 

My lady^s sharp, even teeth gnawed her blanched under 
lip; her great eyes fiashed with superstitious terror; a thrill 
went through her quaking frame. 

And I was twenty-four in May!” gasped Lady Tresilyan. 
^^Is that but coincidence?” 

They gazed into each other^s eyes, dumb with astonish- 
ment, wild fancy running riot; and these two, who had 
never before that day looked into each others face, clasped 
trembling hands in spirit over the ocean of social difference 
and dark mystery that surged between them, drawing heart 
to heart by a missing link dropped from both their lives — 
the lost Glencora Calvert. 

Alexander was the first to recover himself, and to exclaim, 
solemnly: 

My lady, search your past life, and tell me what you 
find for clearer knowledge of this secret.” 

I have not far to search,” replied my lady, in a hushed 
voice; the knowledge meets me half way, and bears with 
it the doom pronounced on me by Strathmore House.” 

She shuddered, and turned a sick face from her agitated 
companion. 

What do you mean. Lady Tresilyan?” cried Alexander, 
vehemently. Can you prove a connection between your 
house and Glencora^s fate?” 

^^Ah, no!” sighed she, repressing tears; ^^but if what I 
am about to relate should prove the truth of my suspicions, 
what will I not endure to recover that vanished Glencora! 
Listen, Mr. Buccleugh, calmly if you can, and, I pray you, 
sift well my story, and extract its full significance. I am 


156 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


the only child of Lord McGilloway Strathmore, of Suther- 
land, and the only remaining member of the direct line of 
lords belonging to that house. My mother died at my 
birth, slain, they say, by some subtle spell, to wash out the 
stain of some mysterious treason which she committed 
against Strathmore laws. Her name I never dared ask; her 
death was a thing to be spoken of with bated breath; and 
yet my lordly father mourned her sorely. At his decease, 
I, the one representative of the unmixed blood, took the 
title and the lands, under the guardianship of Sir Tyndale 
Strathmore, my father^s youngest brother. 

however, hated Strathmore Tower, its legends,' its 
superstitions, and its blind, ignorant devotion, and all my 
girlhood through I sighed for lowland life. I had an aged 
nurse, who vigilantly instructed me in every dread-in- 
spiring prophecy anent the fortunes of my house, and on the 
occasions of my rebellious skepticism, she would wail the 
awful rhymes with prophetic zeal till I was at last silenced. 
This weird preceptress had one unearthly weapon with which 
to subdue me when everything material failed. She poi- 
soned my life with a secret dread of some doom which was 
overhanging the House of Strathmore. ‘ If you fail in serv- 
ing your clan, as your clan has need,^ she said, ^the doom 
of the Double Roses shall overtake you.^ What she meant 
I "cannot say. She only wept and wrung her old hands 
when I asked. Yet I chose to prove disloyal, and to dare 
them all. I insisted on going to London four years ago to 
finish my education there, and the result was that I violated 
the oldest legend of my superstitious people. They say: 

‘ When Strathmore May sal wed ayout the Tweed, 

Then down fair Strathmore fa’s wi’ hellish speed, 

But gif a Strathmore laird win Strathmore bride. 

Then back for aye dour ruin mirk sal bride.’ 

In happy security, and with eyes open to the folly of all 
superstitions,* and mind cleared from its gloom of lurking 
credulities, I married Lord Audley Tresilyan, an English 
courtier, and laughed at the fury of Sir Tyndale, and the 
disappointment of my three male cousins, one of whom, 
Strathmore fates had prescribed for my husband. 

In consequence of this step, embarassments have thick- 
ened around me, my revenues have been stopped, my house 
disputes my claim any longer to be their head, they have 
invested my cousin Kilmeny, daughter of my father^s se- 



158 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


cond brother, Colonel William Strathmore, of Aberdeen, 
with my rights; she usurps my title, she rules my lands, and 
they will marry her to Gavin, Kenneth, or Kobin, Sir Tyn- 
dale^s sons. But this is not all, the mysterious fate of my 
mother may be mine any day, and such fate will be preced- 
ed (so my nurse prophesied), by my meeting with a wraith 
of myself — a living mirror of myself, who will bring my 
doom to me: 

“ ‘When Double-Roses bloom on Strathmore tree, 

Then double Doom the Strathmore House shall dree ?’ ” 

One of US two shall die, and that one shall be her who 
was disloyal to her house. I, Rosecleer Tresilyan, shall die 
when I look in the mirroring face of the wraith of myself, 
who is to confront me at last, and whether she is a living 
woman or a dead, a specter, or a being of flesh and blood. 
Heaven knows. This is my story — a terrible one, if we 
cannot interpret it into natural circumstance, and my heart 
which I thought so flrmly intrenched in reason^s skepticism, 
sinks and shudders in the fangs of the dreadest superstition.^^ 

Alexander looked up, his thin face crimsoned with indig- 
nation. 

^‘^My lady,” said he, impressively, there is either some 
wondrous miracle here or some gigantic fraud. Strathmore 
House appears to descend to jugglery to preserve the direct 
line intact. Your youthful mind has been cruelly worked 
upon by an unscrupulous guardian and an insane old wo- 
man, and my Lord Tresilyan had better take you from 
Scottish ground and look well to your life. Their ^ Doom ^ 
is in their own hands — they will assassinate you as they 
assassinated Lady Strathmore, and call it a ^subtle spell.'’” 

But Glencora Calvert, sir, my twin in age, my double 
in appearance, my wraith who is to find me out ^ when I 
wed ay out the Tweed,’ ” cried Lady Tresilyan, with uncon- 
scious keenness. 

Alexander winced — his brain whirled. 

‘‘ Your t'win!” breathed he; twice has that little word 
been used — is there no meaning in it?” 

And my lady’s hands fell apart on either side, her lovely 
face flushed a glorious vermilion, her eyes blazed out their 
triumph. 

You have spoken true!” cried she, breathlessly. You 
have interpreted in one word my life. This is Nurse McIn- 
tyre’s meaning — this is the supernatural power my house 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


159 


possesses over my fate. They have hidden my twin's exist- 
ence that Double Roses might not bloom on Strathmore 
tree, yet have saved her life to rule mine if I should disap- 
point their schemes. Oh, it must\>Q so; yet where is the 
proof?" 

And Strathmore House has not chosen Glencora Calvert 
your wraith to rule their lands, but Kilmeny Strathmore, 
your cousin?" observed Alexander, quietly. 

They sat, the w'eight of a nightmare upon them, hope 
drifting far away, and only the blackness of horror under 
their feet, till through the sylvan glades and checkering 
sunshine, my lord approached alone. 

He glanced at his lady, her ashy lips, and locked fingers. 
He glanced at Alexander's thin, truthful countenance and 
heavy dejection, and his penetrating eye gathered the keen- 
ness of steel; he reached the pair with the sovereign expres- 
sion of calm intellect on his pale, haughty face. 

In a few words Lady Tresilyan introduced Alexander, 
and explained the circumstances of their meeting, and read- 
ing those brave and patient eyes, my lord grasped his hand 
firmly, and sincerely spoke his pleasure in the interview. 

/^Now, my lord," said the disquieted lady, ^‘^sit here, and 
listen to a very strange pair of stories, and at their close you 
shall exercise those cool perceptions of yours, and give us a 
clear interpretation of the tangled maze." 

Lord Tresilyan fiung himself under the yews with my 
lady and Alexander Buccleugh, and the stories were quickly 
told. 

^^Mr. Buccleugh," said Lord Tresilyan, emphatically, 
^^if we search from the Mull of Galloway to Dunnet Spead, 
this lady must be found. Glencora Calvert, the Edinburgh 
orphan, must he produced and placed side by side with 
Rosecleer, my wife. If it should be proved that they were 
sisters, born in an hour, shall wicked superstition keep them 
apart? My lady, what say you?" 

With paling cheek but firm smile, she cried: 

^‘'Nothing shall frighten me from claiming my sister, if 
she is indeed my sister. Wraith or twin, we shall search 
well for her." 

My lord took her hand, encouraging her, while he re- 
sumed: 

Mr. Buccleugh, let us leave the harassing ground of 
speculation, and join hands on the road to certainty; let us 


160 


TEE BRIDE ELECT, 


find Glencora; let us see whether she is alive or dead, and 
then prove her parentage. Above all, let ue observe pro- 
found secrecy in our search. The Strathmore Fox, Sir Tyn- 
dale, must not scent alarm and baffle us again. Yet who 
has foiled their cunning plot and stolen Glencora from us 
all? I protest I am unable to suggest a supposition. And 
which end of the trail shall we start from? Shall we start 
from Lady-Bank again,* with the 25th of July to guide us, 
and once more traverse the ground you and your friends 
have so earnestly scrutinized, hoping to be aided to the 
proper object of suspicion by this light from the past? Or 
shall we attack the Fox in his hole, and sift Strathmore 
tactics until we know as much on the subject as they do?^^ 
Alexander, eager and excited, reflected for a few minutes, 
then looked up with a faint smile. 

Come to-morrow morning to Lady-Bank yourselves, 
and see Captain Drummond and Florice Calvert, and with 
their counsel we shall all perfect a plan for immediate 
action. Till then, deliberate every possibility, as I shall 
do.^^ 

Very good,^^ responded my lord, with satisfaction. It 
is time we combined forces for the attack. What ! a woman 
with your name, Eosecleer! No two such could exist unless 
the same blood flowed in their veins. 

Lord Tresilyan spoke with steady conviction in his tones, 
and his mesmeric influence carried Alexander, whether he 
would or not in the vortex with him. Both gentlemen 
gazed earnestly at my lady^s noble countenance. 

Ah! shall we three ever welcome that mysterious fourth 
that belongs to us?^^ breathed my lady, with thrilling soul. 


CHAPTER XV. 

WHAT WAS FOUHD IH THE COKH-EIELD. 

The tale was told. The stain of infidelity was lifted from 
the guiltless Bride-Elect, and her fate Avas still to discover. 

Bright Eosecleer Strathmore had severed her personality 
forever from Glencora^s, and in the severance had plunged 
her fate into wider obscurity, and she had rent, with a 
claiming hand, that loved one from her old-time ties, and 
called her sister. 

Was she a sister, or was she a wraith? 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


161 


The little conference broke up; the noble pair walked to 
the Kirkcaldy shore, where General Malmesbury, a charmed 
captive, remained by Lady Clara, and returned by the 
evenings steamer to Edinburgh; and Alexander wearily 
strolled back to Dysart in the twilight. 

On the way he met Captain Drummond, who had been 
seeking him in every imaginable nook along the rocky 
shore for two hours, having come over from Edinburgh in 
the boat succeeding that of the party to Kavenscleugh 
Castle. 

Arm-in-arm these friends paced the sea-trod sands, and 
long and earnest was their conference. 

And when the last weird suggestion of my lady^s story 
had been recapitulated, then, for the first time. Captain 
Drummond broke the seal of silence he had so faithfully 
preserved over Mr. Hazeldean^s story. 

One thing he spared Alexander, the bitter knowledge of 
his former suspicions of him. 

You never, for a moment, connected Glencora Calvert 
with Moray Hazeldean's ^G. C.?’ cried Alexander, when 
the tale was ended. Surely that lady has nothing in 
common with the constant girl we have lost. She loved 
none but me; she never saw the lawyer’s brother in mortal 
form, and the profile likeness is but some phantom of 
artistic perfection. Would I not have suspected this secret 
side of my darling’s life? Would I not have met Moray 
Hazeldean on his own ground, and wrested his power over 
my betrothed from his dastard hand? Ah, Drummond, 
speak no more, if your words lead to such mirages in the 
brain.” 

But the note, Buccleugh, the little note that Elorice 
saw, and that answered to the passionate line which Hazel- 
dean received?” said the captain, anxiously. 

Thank Heaven, I can disprove that!” responded Alex- 
ander, the hot blood suffusing his transparent brow. There 
had been one subject, in the course of our intimacy, which 
Glencora and I disagreed on — Jessie Buccleugh’s fortune. 
This was the cause of the only estrangement that ever 
came between us. On Tuesday morning, the day before 
our marriage day, the old subject was reverted to for the 
last time. ^ Was I sure I would never regret my infatua- 
tion? Was I sure that Jessie did not love me?’ Glencora, 
with great, black eyes wildly seeking mine, and her face 


162 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


flashing with intense emotion, stood aloof and asked me 
this; and I, cut to the heart by anything that looked like 
doubt on her part, answered passionately, rebuking her 
mistrust. She broke down and came to me like a child, 
and, laying her head on my arm, sobbed out her joy that I 
loved her so truly. She did not say much then, but when 
I had gone to the Bank (I was on my way thither) I re- 
ceived a note from Glencora, sweetly confessing the wrong 
she did my fidelity, and ingenuously promising never again 
to look on the contested subject but through my eyes. 
Then we met in the evening, and the difference was for- 
gotten, and I lost her. Drummond, I can show you that 
note; I will do so, and its date will prove what I say.^^ 

Man, I won't look at a line of it — I don't want to see 
it," cried the captain, warmly. “ I believe every syllable 
you say as I believe the blessed Bible itself. Wherever she 
is. I'll now believe her guiltless as an angel till her guilt is 
proved. But oh, man, this is a woeful labyrinth!" 

They were sitting on a rock, whose slimy base was washed 
by the incoming tide. The gloaming had deepened into 
summer night, and the salt breeze blew in their weary 
faces. 

Suddenly Alexander seized the startled -captain by the 
shoulder with a clutch like a vise. 

Drummond!" hissed he, if that story were true, would 
it not convict me of — of murdering my bride?" 

Captain Drummond felt his honest face flame with con- 
scious blood; how acutely he had once argued on that fact. 
And here was the man he had suspected, having discussed 
everything else, he had at last thought of himself, and be- 
come aware of the abyss. 

‘‘Whist, man, ye're mad!" cried the captain, angrily. 
“No man shall say that word of you while I am above the 
ground. Tut, Buccleugh, don't fight with shadows; that 
story is disposed of; think no more of it." 

“ Will nothing turn you against me?" breathed Alex- 
ander, curiously. 

And the captain replied: 

“If all the world should suspect yon, I can't — Ica7i^t.” 

He reiterated the word with the most vehement emphasis, 
and his heart went with it too. 

“ Drummond, I could not prove my innocence if called 
to do so," exclaimed Alexander, much moved. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


163 


The captain placed one trembling hand on his friend^s 
breast, the other on his own. 

^‘Alexander Buccleugh,"^ protested he, solemnly, ^^my 
heart reads yonrs, throb for throb, and reads nothing but 
uprightness. Time was,^^ sad he, sadly, dropping his hands 
to his knees and averting a remorseful face, ''that I could 
mistrust and have my doubts even of you, but since then 
Fve seen your soul laid bare in affliction’s furnace, and I 
know you now as I know myself. Come in, man; it’s late 
for an invalid to be out.” 

Captain Drummond abruptly rose, dragging Alexander 
with him, and hurried him into his little boarding-house 
from the ocean mists. 

He ministered to him with the tenderness of a woman, 
waited, on him with anxious care at the tea-table, and 
watched him wistfully all through the evening, as if he felt 
him doubly dear. ■ 

Perhaps he did, perhaps dim shadows in the future way 
warmed Anthony’s affection for hapless Alexander to ten- 
fold tenacity, showing him, in subtle prescience, what 
would be his post on that dreary path. 

Captain Drummond did not leave his friend that night, 
but staid, with sweet fidelity, close by his side. And in 
the still hours, when the weak convalescent soundly slept 
and dreamed of happiness, the captain gazed with wakeful 
eyes through the latticed window, into the moon-lit sky, 
and he prayed for Alexander in his troubled soul, and 
weighed some possibilities with clenched hands. 

4 : * 4 : * 4 : ^ 4 : 

And so this last night of security passed, and a day, 
never to be forgotten, dawned on these friends. 

They returned to Edinburgh by the early steamer, and 
drove out to Lady-Bank in time to soften the shock of 
Lady Tresilyan’s revelations to the family there. It was 
about eleven o’clock when ‘they alighted at the mansion 
door, and presented themselves to the astonished vision of 
Mrs. Ellathorne and her maidens. 

They rushed into the hall; that thin face and excited 
eye presaged some wild disclosure. 

" Welcome, dear Alexander!” cooed Florice, sweetly, 
pressing his hand with witching fondness. "Are you well 
or are you ill.^ Oh, welcome back, my brother!” 


164 


THE BBIDE ELECT, 


He caught her to his breast; her love unmanned him; 
her soJt endearment wrung his soul; ^twas like a strain she 
used to sing; and where was she now, and who was she 
now? 

Alexander related to the wonder-stricken family the inter- 
view in Roslin Wood. 

And so Glencora is not Glencora, after all, hut Lady 
Tresilyan^s sister cried Florice, sharply, at the conclusion 
of the strange discoveries. ^^No, that can never be! No! 
No!^^ cried she, pathetically. She is mine, and such dark 
conspiracies never involved her life. What! Is this fairy- 
land, where changelings are rife? Yet, if it be so that she 
is Lady Tresilyan^ and not mine, why should I lament 
her nobler birth? I wiU not. She is still the Glencora I 
loved. 

And she melted into generous tears. 

All the certainty my lady^s story gives us is that Glen- 
cora did not prove unfaithful, observed the captain, 
thoughtfully. ^^But never were our perplexities so thick. 
Whether she is a Calvert or a Strathmore, both houses have 
been outwitted; both have lost her. There is a power 
behind all which has stepped in, and snatched the twin, or 
Glencora, from Sir Tyndale and from Alexander Buccleugh, 
and that power is to be one life-long struggle to disclose.'’^ 

^^What do you mean?” broke from Florice’s rigid lips. 

I believe there has been foul play,” muttered the cap- 
tain, hoarsely. On whose part, I cannot even suspect in 
my own heart. Alexander, Lord Tresilyan, and I will join 
hand in hand to unmask that deadly power, if years are 
spent in the chase.” 

While he yet spoke, and the thrill of his meaning was 
quivering through all hearts. Lord Tresilyan'^s barouche and 
grays swept up the avenue, and my lady looked through the 
window at the picture within, and all her expected pleasure 
in the meeting was spoiled. Grief and embarrassment 
seized her sensitive soul. She sighed profoundly, as she 
descended, leaning on her husband^’s shoulder. 

Captain Drummond and Alexander hurried out to meet 
the noble guests, and the necessary formalities being hastily 
gone through with, once more the hot-headed captain ad- 
dressed my lady, but with what changed emotions! 

‘ ^ His first emotions were those of open-hearted apology for 
his error, and lord and lady eagerly explained their part in 


THE BRIBE ELECT, 165 

the error, and hastened to obtain the confidence of their 
upright host. 

They made way for Lady Tresilyan to proceed to the 
parlor, and she hung back, and tried, by every innocent 
wile, to change her too expressive face to some expression 
unused by the Glencora she so fearfully resembled. Yet, 
when she stood on the threshold, the noble figure fully 
revealed, the perfect face cold and constrained, the troubled 
eyes fastened on the ground, she seemed so like the wraith 
of Glencora, standing there, fearful to enter again the circle 
she had deserted, that Florice and Jessie uttered low cries 
of astonishment, though they had been preparing them- 
selves for her appearance, and, springing toward her, took 
each, impulsively, a hand, and drew her inside, in ungov- 
ernable agitation. 

Lady Tresilyan,” exclaimed Mrs. Ellathorne, in a 
trembling voice, this is a poor welcome to offer one who 
may be her kinswoman; but how can we, who mourn her 
loss, look on her breathing image without a fierce heart- 
pain? Bless you, my lady, you are surely another Glencora!” 

Mrs. Ellathorne,” murmured she, quickly, do not I 
suffer with you ? Henceforth this sorrow shall be shared 
by us all, and lightened, I trust, by my efforts. I have been 
a gay soul all my life, with scarcely thought enough to 
recognize my own little crosses; but, believe me, I can feel 
with you, and I come with a fresh will to the search. And 
you, dear hearts!” — she turned, with infinite pathos, to the 
half -awed girls, and drew them to her side — you must not 
greet me as only a false shade of your loved one, but give 
me your trust and affection; let me be as if I really were her 
sister, and not the stranger who comes with blacker shadows 
to hide Glencora^s fate from you.” 

Thus my lady took her loving place among them as no 
social iceberg, but tender and faithful as the truest there. 

Lord Tresilyan greeted each member of the little family 
with a glimmering of admiration in his fastidious eye, and 
he met Florice with a few appropriate words of pleasure and 
reassurance. 

And then the strangely assorted group seated themselves 
in the home-like parlor, to commune of her who had passed 
through that wide casement just two months ago that day. 

After some preliminary discussions. Lord Tresilyan made 
the first important suggestion. 


166 ‘ 


TEE BBIDE ELECT. 


** Having weighed patiently in my mind all possibilities/^ 
began he, “I propose that, as the straightest course to’v\^rd 
finding the lady and foiling a conspiracy at one blow, we 
shall endeavor to prove the existence or non-existence of 
Lady Tresilyan^s sister, simply by applying at the fountain- 
head for the information. There is one person alone whom 
we are certain knows the rights of this affair; that person is 
the old woman who tended the doomed Lady Strathmore, 
and the commands of Lady Tresilyan will induce Mrs, 
McIntyre to disclose the fatal secret. Therefore, suppose 
these ladies privately proceed to the Highlands, well- 
attended, of course, and quietly take possession of the aged 
prophetess in her lonely hut?” 

Lady Tresilyan gave her lord a quick, brilliant smile, 
riorice turned in gentle gratitude toward him. 

The gentleman weighed the proposal for a few moments; 
then Alexander remarked: 

‘‘That, as a primary step, would be most important; 
still, it seems like relinquishing the other supposition, and 
losing sight of one end of the trail. Eemember,” said he, 
feverishly, “time may be very precious on the other track.” 

“ True,” responded Lord Tresilyan, with ready sympa- 
thy; “ we shall also set the detectives back upon their traces, 
and re-examine every atom of evidence which can be got 
at. Everything must be sifted. I assure you some fiaw 
has been overlooked. Captain Drummond, I see you are 
recalling something of the kind. Keep it in mind, to be dis- 
cussed hereafter.” 

In truth, the captain’s bluff countenance was expressing 
the liveliest uneasiness, and his glance tow^ard the faintly 
smiling Alexander was anything but cheerful. 

Lord Tresilyan’s quick intuition instantly read this mute 
interchange of significance, and unconsciously he paused; 
^nd Alexander, regardless of the captain’s frown, imme- 
diately interposed: 

“The fiaw which was overlooked may possibly be con- 
tained in a story which in the previous search was divulged 
to the captain, and which he is generously wishing to sup- 
press — as if there is any truth in it; or if it has any connec- 
tion with Glencora, it casts a suspicion upon me which 
ruins me. Anthony, I must speak out; let me tell the 
story.” 

Lord Tresilyan bent toward the still faintly smiling Alex- 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


167 


ander, who was only awaiting silence to disclose the partic- 
ulars, and earnestly regarding him, said: 

Reserve all such painful disclosures to the end, sir, and 
when all else fails, then tell us that story, and throw your- 
self upon our justice. We will not iail to uphold you 
through the blackest appearances. For the sake of these 
ladies, Mr. Buccleugh, spare yourself. 

It was time to remember them, and Alexander, turning 
from his- brave resolve, looked around at them with what 
assurance he could muster in his smile. 

Mrs. Ellathorne was sitting with amazement and alarm 
in every line of her face, and Florice slipped around to the 
back of his chair, and clung to him with a pathetic gesture, 
as if her frail hands holding him ther^ could defend him 
from all the world. But Jessie Buccleugh cried out with 
scorn: 

Oh, my lord, let him plead ^not guilty^ at your bar at 
once, and dole out your justice to him at once. If his 
purity admits of a doubt, why not dispel or verify that 
doubt to-day? He was bereaved of his bride by fraud and 
his enemies; let us, his friends, in justice bereave him of 
his fair fame.” 

With crimson face she came to her beloved cousin, and, 
kneeling, she touched his hand with her quivering lips, and 
washed it with her gushing tears. 

My lord rose, with a flash from his mesmeric eyes, a 
gloom on his majestic brow, and, standing at the casement, 
watched the checkered green and gold shadows on the 
avenue. 

But Alexander whispered, reproachfully: 

Jessie, you are doing cruel in justice to my truest friends, 
on whose hearts no stain of disloyalty rests, or suspicion 
lurks. Don^t fly out thus against my evil position. I wish 
to be no safer than in the hands of Lord Tresilyan and 
Captain Drummond.” 

^‘Ah, I am always too hasty!” sobbed Jessie, ^^but it 
hurts me sorely to think of suspicion in connection with 
your name.” 

Alexander raised her to her chair with grave command. 

Was not Glencora doubted?” said he, sternly. 

She flushed crimson. Had she deplored the suspicion of 
Glencoca as she now deplored the suspicion of Alexander? 


168 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


Not so; but she was the first to doubt her. She remained 
stricken to silence as she refiected on these things. 

This was, in effect, but the commencement of the con- 
sultation; after that it went on without interruption. It 
was at last agreed that Captain Drummond should, at that 
point, relate Mr. Hazeldean^s story, as too much had been 
said on the subject to retreat comfortably; and this, with 
much reluctance, he did. 

Mr. Buccleugh,^^ exclaimed Lord Tresilyan, at the con- 
clusion of Captain Drummond’s narrative, solemnly, con- 
sign, as we do, Mr. Hazeldean’s story to utter oblivion, till 
other hands than ours persistently drag it to the light. On 
that foul path no friend of yours will stir a step. Let us 
look for Glencora Strathmore — not for Moray Hazeldean’s 
incognito.” 

He held out a brother’s hand, - and his clasp turned the 
drifting soul of the desolate Alexander in its despair, and it 
clung to these good friends. Lord Audley and Anthony 
Drummond. He looked around the agitated group, on 
each womanly face, beaming with faith in him, and briefiy 
his wasted cheeks flushed high. 

Heaven reward such hearts!” breathed he. ^^My 
gratitude is too poor a return.” 

Captain Drummond wiped his hot face, and growled with 
an attempted business tone: 

Go, boy, bring Glencora’s note here. It’s a fine thing 
to have a legal text to go by, whatever befalls. Get the 
thing, that my lord may see the date that clears you to us, 
any way.” 

Good!” said Lord Tresilyan, and you shall lock it up. 
Captain Drummond; it may be valuable yet.” 

Alexander, thus urged, went his way to Den burn, to take 
from his desk the last note his bride had ever penned for ♦ 
him. 

To pleasantly beguile the time, the captain asked my lord 
out with him to trace the exact route taken by the lovers 
that eventful evening, leaving the ladies to commune alone. 

^ Mrs. Ellathorne left the room on some hospitable mis- 
sion, and Lady Tresilyan, sitting thoughtfully by the case- 
ment and marking each lovely feature of the scene which 
had been the daily delight of the lady who had so strangely 
entwined herself with her interests, turned presently to 
Florice, and said softly: 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


169 


Come here, Miss Florice, and make friends with me. 
If I am so like her we love, should you not admit me into 
the outer covert of your heart’s temple? My poor girlie, 
my pining baby Calvert," murmured my lady, while her 
witching eyes drew the timid Florice to lean on her bosom 
and weep silently. Poor fading baby Calvert moans for 
lost heart^s-ease, starves for vanished sister-love, and refuses 
all meaner consolation. Take Kosecleer, Glencora^s double, 
for a temporary sister, my tiny one, and let her cheer thee." 

With her mellow tones uttering quaint endearment, and 
her balmy breath sweeping across the upturned face of Flo- 
rice, my lady could not be resisted; in fascinating peace 
Florice sank heavier in her dainty arms, and smiled in 
lorn love. 

And you, too. Miss Jessie," murmured my lady again, 
looking toward her remote figure, which lingered in sight 
and yet aloof, ^^come here and learn to love me. My dear, 
you must look into that passionate heart of yours, and be a 
brave little woman, and crush a fast-growing flower that 
you will see there. Little woman, do you know what that 
flower is?" 

Jessie, leaning by my lady^s chair, with her arms leaning 
on her lap, looked up with a fitful flush on her sweet face. 

Lady Tresilyan bent her head close to her, and her lips 
formed inaudibly one word, ^^Love." 

Jessie hid her face from the majestic countenance bend- 
ing over her; it seemed as if an accusing angel in Glencora’s 
likeness had smitten her with her unwitting disloyalty, and 
she shrank in mute distress from the revealed sin. 

^^And do you know what the flower’s fruit will be?" 
questioned Lady Tresilyan again. Once more she bent 
down, and shaped the voiceless word, Death!" 

Jessie stared in affright. 

AVhat do you foresee?" whispered she. 

The eyes of many reaching your secret, dear little wo- 
man, the judgment of many condemning your cousin to a 
felon’s doom; take care, little - woman, take care! Look 
into your heart." 

Her finger upheld warningly, her face formed to express 
the noblest emotions, expressing now grave apprehension, 
my lady was, for the second time, resistless, Jessie suc- 
cumbed with a low cry, and kneeling by lovely Lady Tresil- 
yan, whose one arm upheld Florice, the other caressed 


170 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


Jessie, took a long, upbraiding survey of lier poor little 
heart, and found it sadly astray. 


At last the captain led his companion down to the canal 
side, and as they strolled along the narrow path, they 
thoughtfully spoke of the Hazeldean’s story. 

The lawyer never heard from his brother again queried 
Lord Tresilyan. 

No, indeed, my lord. I used to see Hazeldean almost 
every day about it, but have not gone near him for three 
weeks, in fact, ever since Lady Tresilyan appeared in Edin- 
burgh I had lost sight of that story. Hazeldean had lost 
heart himself when I last saw him, and began to suspect 
that his brother had traced and married the lady abroad, 
and was too happy to care a rush for the folks at home. It 
was this portion of the canal which we dragged that night.” 

They were standing by the canal, some ten paces to the 
left of the footpath which led through the corn to the 
kitchen green, and two laborers were reaping the captain^s 
oats close beside them. Their glittering scythes rasped 
through the golden sea, laying it low at every strol^e, in 
fresh swathes, and the beaded sweat stood thick on their 
brows. 

Presently Lord Tresilyan touched the captain’s shoulder, 
gentleman is coming down through the corn. I 
think he is looking for you,” said he. 

And the captain, wheeling, stood face to face with Mr. 
PL’* Hazeldean. 



‘‘News, Mr. Hazeldean?” cried the captain, grasping his 
hand heartily. 

“ Presently, captain. The ladies sent me down in search 
of you. I have something to tell you.” 

With a pale, stern face, the lawyer responded to the cap- 
tain’s introduction of Lord Tresilyan, and then they stood, 
a silent group, with waiting faces, on the bank, and gazed 
at the turbid waters and round at the sweet corn-field. 

“ This is the path which Alexander walked back alone 
after he had seen his last of her,” muttered the captain, 
reflectively. 

And while the word was on his tongue one of the reapers 
flung down his scythe, stooped over the fallen corn, pulled 
something from among the tangled gorse, and, wiping his 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


171 


luminous brow with his shirt sleeve, stepped forward to the 
captain. 

‘‘ Here’s a thrifle I found in the corn, yer honor.” 

And my lord and the lawyer looking on, Captain Drum- 
mond took it in his fingers, opened the damp pages, and 
cried, in a startling voice: 

Good Heaven! It is Glencora’s note-book!” 

Then Mr. Philip Hazeldean’s stern face fiashed with 
acrid light; he laid a heavy hand on the captain’s arm, and 
drew him one step aside. 

And G, C. is dead!” said Mr. Hazeldean. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A WOOER FOR THE LADY OF STRATHMORE. 

Lady Kilmeny was standing at the great center window 
of the banqueting hall, looking down, with a mocking lip 
and lurking deviltry in her eye at the Laird Tyndale and 
Major Gavin in the court below, as they shook their dusty 
bonnets, and stamped their spurred feet, preparatory to 
ascending into the presence of their kinswoman. 

The lady was clothed in a long robe of emerald velvet, 
which swept the fioor behind, like a train, and the cincture 
of quaintly carved iron clasped a waist almost startling in 
its slenderness, when taken in proportion to her regal height 
and undulating bust. Why she should choose iron for her 
jewelry, the inconsolable Mysie failed to ascertain; but 
there were the antique ornaments spanning her waist, 
weighing down her slender neck, and clanking like fetters 
upon her arms. My lady had taken an insane fancy to 
these ornaments. She had found them among the elfects 
of Lady McGillvray Strathmore, one gloomy, rain-sodden 
day, when she was laughing and taunting over the ancient, 
clannish lore inscribed in worm-eaten books. She brought 
these to light from the recesses of an old oaken cabinet, 
rattling like manacles. 

My lady held them up, her eyes gleaming, solemnly 
kissed tho elaborately carved griffith with a chain in its 
mouth, which composed the design, and pronounced them 
an heir-loom expressly descended to her, and sneering and 
jibing, bade Mysie put them away for state occasions. 

And this was state occasion the first. 


172 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


Lord Tyndale had sent from Bracken Hough, two days 
ago, an intimation that he and his eldest son, the major, 
should honor themselves by waiting upon my lady on 
Thursday, the 26 th of September, if it were my lady's 
pleasure. 

My lady had returned word that it was her convenience; 
so here the gentlemen were, prepared to do business. 

And my lady having, with whimsical care, ordered a 
grand feast, had caused the gaunt reception-rooms to be 
decked with velvet festoons and heather wreaths, as if 
royalty was expected; and all looked gay, imposing, and 
brilliant, except, indeed, the dull bands which decorated 
my lady's fair self. 

Lady Kilmeny smiled curiously to herself when she saw 
them down in the locked court-yard of her Tower, but she 
smiled much more chillingly as they approached her, one by 
one, and kissed her extended hand. 

Welcome to Strathmore, Lord Tyndale; welcome 
Major Gavin. Be seated, and accept my hospitality," said 
my lady, with a sweeping reverence and a wave of her hand. 
^‘Eat, my uncle and cousin, eat, drink, make merry; then 
chalk my path for me." 

The laird stood speechless, jaw dropped and gray eyes 
agog, staring at my lady, and forgetting to accept the 
proffered seat at the foot of the glittering banquet table. 

Big, burly Major Gavin gaped too, but was not too 
astounded to blurt out what was atop in his dull brain. 

Gramercy, Cousin Kilmeny, you're not yourself at all. 
What in thunder makes you so lean and old-looking? 
You're twenty years older since I saw you three weeks 
ago!" 

The cares, good Gavin, the cares of State tell upon my 
unaccustomed brain," quoth the lady, blandly, throwing a 
covert glance of keen amusement at the laird; ^'and I 
dare say I shall gain other twenty years of appearance ere 
another three weeks pass over my grisling head. I am 
failing in looks very fast. Cousin Gavin. I shall soon be 
really very ugly." 

Jove I but will you?" ejaculated the dragoon, twisting 
his pointed mustaches in consternation. ^^Gad! you're 
white as a ghost now — you're like a witch-woman. Cousin 
Kilmeny!" 

My lady gravely bowed to the floor, as if at the receipt of 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


173 


a fine compliment, leaving the broad shouldered dragoon 
glowering in amazement. 

lady mocks you, Gavin,^^ exclaimed the laird, 
flushing angrily, as he watched his erratic niece. You^re 
slow and stupid, Gavin, or you^d paint a willful May with 
brighter colors than depreciation. She laughs in her 
sleeve at your simplicity. 

Still the major twisted his nut-brown mustaches, and 
gnawed their fine Polish barbs in his wonderment, for his 
cousin was standing before them with smiling face and 
dark, scintillating eye, threading the long, raven-black 
strands of her hair, which she wore totally unconfined to- 
day, with her cold, slender fingers, and the action suggested 
strangely to him the oscillation of a tigress before she 
springs on the prey. 

Cousin Major, said my lady, with silver tone, I^m 
sorry I can^t suit your admiring eye better, but my heyday 
of beauty is gone forever, and there^s nothing left of me 
but old age and a furious temper. I often feel now as if I 
must strangle some one, . and Mysie thinks I am insane. 
But don^t feel uncomfortable, I pray you, good major; I^m 
quite sane to-day, and in a very good humor, and looking 
my very best."’" 

And with a last covert flash at the uneasy laird, my lady 
led the way to the table, seated herself, and signed for the 
major to place himself at her right hand. This he did with 
considerable hesitation, involuntarily moving his chair away 
an inch or two from her, thereby wreathing my lady^s lips 
into new curves of diaUerie. 

^^My lady, my Lady KilmenyT^ exclaimed Laird Tyn- 
dale, gliding into the carved chair at the foot of the board, 
and bending forward to gaze keenly at his smiling vis-a-vis, 

why wear you the chains of dead Lady Gillvray Strath- 
more? Take you her place when you wear the bonds? She 
was a good lady, and true to her husband^s house; will you 
be the same?^^ 

Laird Tyndale, you have clasped my hand in pledge of 
that." 

^^Then why so fierce an eye. Lady Kilmeny? why so 
scorning a tongue for the heir of Bracken Hough? Those 
amulets should change your bitter heart to softness and 
loyalty, for so was the heart of their former wearer." 

Lady Kilmeny, coiling the sealed band round her slender 


174 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


throat, returned her uncle’s gaze with eyes softened by sud- 
den interest. 

Tell me about Lady Strathmore,” she cried. Xo one 
speaks of her here, and she was my aunt. Tell me all you 
can remember, Laird Tyndale.” 

I caiTt tell you much, child, for it was hut a short time 
she blossomed in sterile Strathmore, the bonniest flower of 
Sutherland! But why. Lady Kilmeny, do you think of 
her?” asked the old man, carving the haunch of venison 
with slightly unsteady hand. 

“I know not,” murmured my lady, leaning her brow 
upon her shadow hand. But I think, and I think, and I 
weave wild dreams, and there’s ever a pallid Lady Strath- 
more looking at me through them all. Laird Tyndale, did 
I ever see Lady McGillvray?” 

I wot not. She was never in Aberdeen,” replied the 
laird. 

‘‘You trifle, sir,” exclaimed my lady, with a frown. 
“Why don’t you speak decidedly, and without flnessing? 
Is it that simple Gavin sits at my right hand? Eat, good 
major, and shut your ears when you open your mouth. 
Now, Laird Tyndale, I will listen to the biography of my 
dead aunt.” 

“Kilmeny, there is nothing to be told but what you 
already know,” said the laird, looking at her sternly. 

“Nay, then, but that can be contradicted,” cried my 
lady, with a short laugh. “ I have yet to be told why you 
lock Lady McGillvray’s portrait, with that of my cousin 
Rosecleer, in the tower chamber. Sir, if you have made 
me lady here, why do you not intrust me with Strathmore’s 
histories? I will know her life, and be it good, or be it 
bad. I’ll walk in her steps,” murmured she, suddenly, weep- 
ing. 

“She was the purest, bravest lady that ever grew on Strath- 
more tree,” said the laird, solemnly. “ She never traversed 
Strathmore’s fortunes but once, and — and that fault she 
washed out with her death.” 

“What!” breathed my lady, thrilling with suspense. 
‘^Murdered, was she?” 

“ Killed % no mortal hand; it was the Doom!” muttered 
Tyndale Strathmore. * 

Lady Kilmeny was silenced after that, and the feast pro- 
ceeded in utter silence. Perhaps the dread superstitions of 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


175 


this house were at last taking root in her proud heart. She 
sat, pale and quiet, thinking, her down dropped eyes fastened 
upon the bracelet on her right wrist, and Major Gavin, see- 
ing her face turned toward him, ceased his frequent stares 
at her, and applied himself assiduously to the viands. 

What was my aunGs maiden name?'’^ asked Lady Kil- 
meny, looking up from her reveries. 

“ Ye'se get nae mair frae me the noo,^" muttered he, 
sourly. Gang to the auld Nurse McIntyre, who bedded 
my lady when a bride, an’ streaked my lady when a cauld 
corpse. Gang to the crone yersel, if ye want to know her 
good and evil portion, an’ tak warning by what ye hear.” 

And with that he strode from the table, and stood in one 
of the groined stone windows overlooking the Firth. 

My lady looked after him with a face of unearthly intel- 
lect, and a wild smile on her parted lips; then rose, gra- 
ciously led the way to another elegantly arranged chamber, 
seated her guests, and placed herself directly opposite them. 

Speak, my uncle,” said she, assuming an attitude of 
attention. I await the Oj^ ening of your mind.” 

Lady Kilmeny, I have but a few words to say, but I 
beg you will hear them with attention,” began the laird, 
impressively. ‘‘When I have said those words I shall leave 
my son Gavin to introduce his business with you.” 

Lady Kilmeny sat back on her lounge with a compressed 
lip, and bowed her head. 

“ When yon left your home in Aberdeen, and accompa- 
nied me to your possessions here, you left some friends be- 
hind you,” resumed the laird, taking her hand and clasp- 
ing it firmly; “ one of whom was on such terms with you 
that it was with difficulty you broke the connection on such 
short notice; the others most generously let you go, without 
protest.” 

“ Is there any necessity for the recapitulation of an old 
tale?” demanded my lady, contemptuously snatching^ away 
her hand. “ You know I dislike such a system, Laird Tyn- 
dale. Speak to the point.” 

“ My lady, I will be heard,” responded the laird, repos- 
sessing himself of her hand, and tightening his grasp as he 
proceeded. “ I shall speak of the fact yet this once, and 
then it dies between us. It is but due to us, to Gavin” — 
this with a meaning pressure of her cold fingers — that an 


176 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


outline of your late life should be gone over. Now, lis- 
ten 

'^But I positively refuse to listen, Laird Tyndale!^^ 

^^Lady Kilmeny, if you remember your vow, made on 
Wolfs Head three weeks ago, you will listen. 

And my lady ceased her angry strife and sat down con- 
quered. 

Lady Kilmeny, you were poor and obscure in Aberdeen, 
and though your grandparents fondly cherished you, they 
could promise you but a meager home after their death. 
Well, knowing this, they made no opposition when your 
house, to which you became necessary, claimed you for its 
head, to avert the judgments brought upon it by a traitress; 
so, when you came with me, you came with their blessing. 
Is it so, my lady?” 

There was a pause. Sir Tyndale stubbornly waited for 
some sign of affirmation, and, griping the girFs chilly 
hand, strove to catch her gloomy eye. 

Your vow!” he muttered in her ear at last, and, with a 
shiver, my lady looked at him, and faintly articulated: 

^^It is so.” 

Mr. Gavin, listen,” quoth the laird, with a glance at that 
rather stolid-looking personage. wish to be perfectly 
satisfied with my lady^s former course, so note what she tells 
you. You were glad to leave obscurity and cramping pov- 
erty, my lady, for the good of your wealthy house, so you 
joyfully obeyed the summons; and inspired by a noble self 
abnegation, severed a tie which many a girl would have 
trembled to do. I shall only touch upon this subject, and 
spare, you as much as I may. You were contracted in mar- 
riage to a young gentleman in mediocre circumstances, a 
printer, or sub-editor of some local paper in Aberdeen, and 
he ” 

My lady rose with a burning brow, and wrenched her 
hand from the laird. 

What has this outrage to do with your plans?” she de- 
manded with suppressed fury. How dare you, Tyndale 
Strathmore? Enough of your oration — IT hear no more!” 

Sir Tyndale, being stronger than she, forced her back to 
her chair, fondled, clasped, and kissed her shuddering fin- 
gers, deprecated and commanded by many a covert art, then 
gingerly tripped on his way again. 

My dear child, I am almost finished,” he blandly re- 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


177 


marked. To proceed: You dismissed your lover of your 
own free will, discarded him forever, and bade a stormy 
adieu to his sister, who was your closest friend. You ac- 
companied me as far as Forres in brilliant spirits, devoted 
and dauntless, and when there we unfortunately learned 
that your betrothed was driven to insanity, an event which 
might have been expected on losing a woman like yourself. 
But, instead of receiving the intelligence with gentle regret, 
and throwing yourself at once into the arms of your house, 
you have flouted and scorned and revenged your mad lover^s 
cause on us all these weeks, and stretched back weak hands 
to Aberdeen. You have written to the sister, and pined 
for a visit from your lover^s brother, that you might obtain 
their forgiveness, and take you back among them, and that 
you might even win back the reason of your ruined be- 
trothed. And how have they responded to your cries? Bead 
again that bitter letter you have graven on your rankling 
heart — remember each scathing sentence of wrath and re- 
proach — ride to Wolfe^s Head and repeat again your vow — 
then turn to Strathmore once more, its deliverer, and not 
its bane. My niece, my dear, dear niece, I have done. My 
son, nothing lies between you and her. And now, with my 
blessing, I leave you.^^ 

At the close of this singular speech, the laird released my 
lady^’s hands, rose, looked down for an instant with porten- 
tous signiflcance into her face, then hurried from the apart- 
ment to clatter, on a tall, roan steed, straight home to 
Bracken Hough. 

The thoughts of Kilmeny might have been a curious 
study to her lover just then. She was not thinking of 
leaning on his arm to walk down the allotted way; more 
likely she was wondering whether her frail hand could lay 
him low at its entrance. 

Major Gavin cleared his throat when six minutes had 
elapsed, and charged at the enemy in true dragon style: 

Gad, Kilmeny, my girl! the fact is, my father thinks it 
best that you should take my name at once, and so, faith, 
do I. IFs best for the house, and well not make such a 
bad couple when the law has linked us, eh. Cousin Kil- 
meny? And if youfll just keep your rugged temper for 
your hinds, and dogs, and horses — gad! you’ll have enough 
of them, an^ ye like — why, Til be as kind a husband as 


178 


THE BBIDE ELECT, 


ever kissed Strathmore May. What do you say. Lady 
Kilmeny?^^ 

Dark, ominous shadows were lying thick on my lady^s 
bleached face; her lips wreathed in a wicked smile, and her 
sharp, glistening teeth were set with rage and scorn. 

^^Tell your father, said she, in a quavering tone, ^^that 
I cannot marry where I cannot stoop to obey. I could never 
suffer you. Major Gavin, were you my husband; and with- 
out in the least infringing on my duty to the house of 
Strathmore, I utterly and absolutely refuse to consort with 
Lord Tyndale's eldest son. 

But, Cousin Kilmeny,’^ urged the poor stupid major, 
with a purple face, growing proportionately desperate as 
the victory seemed almost declared, you know you must 
marry one of us, and it should be me. And you vowed, 
you know, and so on 

"'To marry you?” interposed my lady, with a ringing 
laugh. 

"‘To do for the good of Strathmore, continued Major 
Gavin, "" and in spite of previous attachment to connect 
yourself with its fortunes, which cannot be done, you very 
well know, unless a union like this takes place. Take time 
to consider. Lady Kilmeny — take two days.'’^ 

""Not an hour!^^ cried my lady, vehemently. ""Go tell 
Laird Tyndale that I cannot, will not do the thing I hate, 
while it lies outside my vow. You have heard my last word 
on the subject. Major Gavin; and now, if you are a man, 
leave me!” 

So the dragoon gathered himself up, defeated, from the 
fray, and as he was a man, albeit a slow and incomprehensive 
one, he left my lady^s chamber with a low reverence, and 
followed hard on his sire’s traces, with many a puzzled, 
backvvard glance at the frowning battlements of Strathmore 
Tower slowly sinking into the vale behind. 

Perhaps there were astonishment and rage rampant in 
Bracken Hough about an hour after this eventful interview; 
perhaps rage predominated, for astonishment could hardly 
flourish in the wary Tyndale’s heart after such experiences 
as he had had of his niece’s temper. He said very little, but 
probably thought the more, during Major Gavin’s indig- 
nant declamation, and turned at the conclusion of the 
recital to the eager Kenneth and the silent Eobin. 

He nodded to his second son. 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


179 


^^You shall try my lady^s will to-morrow/^ quoth the 
laird. 

And Kenneth, spite of a lowering glance from Eobin, 
bowed and answered: 

Ay, father, that I will.^^ 

4e % * 

The Lady of Strathmore was strangely still and quiescent 
after her brave wooer^s exodus; so quiet and immovable that 
the amber shadows of the western sun deepened high on 
the gleaming wall of her dainty chamber before she once 
raised her face from its long motionless repose. 

The court-bell clanged in the summer night, and the 
hesitating flutter of her handmaiden^s fingers upon her 
chamber door at last aroused my lady to life and its thorns. 

There will be a storm to-night, quoth my lady, 
drearily, and little cares the Lady of Strathmore for storm 
or peace. Come in, Mysie."" 

Shall I bring my lady's supper?” whispered Mysie, with 
a timid courtesy, as she entered the apartment. 

Fetch my bonnet and plaid,” said Lady Kilmeny, not 
heeding her maid's question. 

^^What, at half-past eight o'clock?” uttered the startled 
girl. ^‘The gate's locked, and oh, my lady, but the night's 
threatening.” 

^^Go!” commanded her mercurial lady, with rising pas- 
sion. ^^Do you contradict me, girl?” 

Ohone, my sweet lady,” wailed the lady's-maid, begin- 
ning immediately to weep, they'll no open the gate for 
you sae late — bide till the morn.” 

My lady's answer was to swoop toward a light silken plaid 
which was thrown over an ormulu thermometer, cast it over 
her head, and advance to the door, at which poor Mysie 
Craig fled precipitately through the gaunt banqueting hall 
up to my lady's wardrobe, from whence she swiftly returned 
with the wrappings in her arms, and her own plaid thrown 
round her head, ready to be her mistress' follower. 

She had to run for it, though; the lady was already in 
the court, talking in clear, absolute tones to the gate- 
keeper. 

I command obedience!” she was saying, as Mysie 
devotedly placed herself at her side. ^^Open the gate 
for me!” 


180 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


The laird was here the day, ma leddy,^' hesitated the 
man, ^^an^ he left nae sie order/^ 

Lady Kilmeny drew herself to her regal height, and 
looked at him once with her electric eyes ablaze. 

I am your mistress, Konald, and in my own right I de- 
mand the key of my castle.-'^ 

And in virtue of discretion being the better part of valor 
before those dangerous eyes, the man unlocked the massive 
door and gave my lady access to the murky night upon the 
moor. 

“Lock the gate, Eonald, and keep watch,” said my lady. 
“What, Mysie; you here? Go back child; there will be a 
storm.” 

“ Mistress,” said Mysie, in a low, earnest voice, “as lang 
as Mysie Craig has heart to beat and body to gang, she'll 
stick by her lady in spite o' wind an' weather. You're not 
able to wrastle wi' the storm alane, my lady; tak me to 
lean upon.” 

My lady turned at that, and without a word walked 
across the gusty space, while Mysie, trembling at her own 
temerity, kept at her side, shuddering as the long savage 
sweep of the wind whistled through the distant firs, or 
drove sheets of powdered spray high from the sea over the 
path. 

They seemed to be on their way to Golspie. For perhaps 
a mile my lady paced swiftly on, her maid at her side, along 
the high road skirting the sea, and Mysie was just comfort- 
ing herself with counting the distant lights in the town, 
when my lady turned sharp into a lonely, inland path, and 
stopped. 

“ Come here, girl,” she said, drawing her companion 
closer to scan her features in the indistinct gloom; “do you 
follow Kilmeny Strathmore for love or for curiosity?” 

The girl answered by a tempest of tears. 

“Oh, sweet heart! Oh, my bonnie lady, dinna doubt 
me!” she sobbed, vehemently, 

“False or true to your lady, Mysie, which?” questioned 
Lady Kilmeny, still gazing on her agitated face with wist- 
fulness. 

True! lady, true as heaven — true as death!” cried 
Mysie, lifting her clasped hands upward. 

Lady Kilmeny bent over her, and unaccustomed tender- 
ness stirred in her frozen heart. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


181 


She clasped the trembling girl and a kiss fell like a bless- 
ing upon her brow. 

‘^Then, Mysie, thy crazy mistress trusts thee as she trusts 
no kinsman in false Strathmore she murmured, softly. 
** Come with thy lady, child, and hear the history of her 
life to-night.” 

Where?” whispered Mysie, thrilling with joy and awe. 

^^To nurse McIntyre^s, who knows every branch and twig 
on Strathmore tree. She shall prophesy my fate in the 
doom of McGillvray^s bride, the fairest flower of Suther- 
land.” 

Nurse McIntyre, the loitchf* aspirated the maid in 
momentary terror. Then she girded up brave heart — sup- 
ported my lady^s slender frame, and tramped down the 
dark, desolate lane, with sturdy determination. 

And presently they stood before a lonely hut, embosomed 
in funereal yews and shock willows, surrounded by damp 
morass and water rushes — the house of the Seer of Strath- 
more. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE DEAD WITNESS. 

^‘And is dead /” 

Captain Drummond felt a sudden weight descend on his 
heart that threatened to crush it; a strange fluttering fllled 
the ocean of blackened space that seemed to grow before his 
eyes; he clutched the lawyer^s arm in momentary faintness. 

My lord stood petrified, gazing in the lawyer^s cold, 
downcast face, and the Irish laborer, striding back to his 
bite in the golden sea, looked over his shoulder at the omi- 
nous trio, and crossed himself in devout invocation. 

Mother Howly, forfend us from all lost pocket-books!” 
muttered he, picking up his scythe again -and sweeping 
down the crisp waves. 

And Mr. Philip Hazeldean took up his moral scythe, and 
swept down the sea of doubts which his first stroke had 
stirred to its angry bottom. 

There need be no mystery on the subject,” said Mr. 
Hazeldean. ‘^I have found my brother's friend, and she is 
dead.” 

The captain interposed: 


182 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


^^She is not Glencora Calvert, yon know: I do not believe 
she is/^ 

^^That may be proved easily/' responded the lawyer, in 
measured accents. ‘‘ However, I have seen her." 

Has your brother written to you?" quickly asked my 

lord. 

‘^No, he has not," said Mr. Hazeldean, looking at him in 
surprise. Has Captain Drummond informed you of this 
said aifair?" 

Fully, sir, and also Mr. Buccleugh; there is no secrecy 
observed upon the subject among those whom it concerns. 
If your brother has not written you, how are you assured 
that this dead lady is his friend?" 

Mr. Hazeldean's somber .face grew white; he turned away 
with an involuntary shudder. 

Pray relieve our anxiety, Hazeldean," prayed the cap- 
tain. Relate the circumstance from end to end." 

Captain Drummond was nursing that consoling doubt in 
his bosom, till he might look his own shocked surprise in 
the face. He trembled to foresee where circumstances 
might drift them. If Mr. Hazeldean really believed the 
identity of the two ladies, what then? 

They were walking up through the corn; they crossed the 
kitchen green; they passed round the left angle of the man- 
sion, and entered the library through a favorite door in the 
secluded passage before described. 

There, in convinced tones, Philip Hazeldean, made the 
disclosures he had come to make. 

Three weeks ago, when Mr. Buccleugh fell sick at Lady- 
Bank, a detective officer, of the name of Wynde, paid me a 
visit; directed to me, he explained, by his superintendent, 
Mr. Spires, who was engaged in your interest, in the search 
of Glencora Calvert, Mr. Wynde told me that he had been 
watching a certain object of suspicion before overlooked; 
had run him into temporary security, and waited my assis- 
tance to dispose of him. The gist of his arguments I shall 
not trouble you with; sufficient to say that I was induced by 
my own strong convictions, and in the cause of justice, to 
relate Moray's story to Mr. Wynde exactly as I first related 
it to you. With which additional data Mr. Wyjide followed 
up the clew he held in his hands, and made out a case of 
most startling moment. I have hitherto shrunk from 
wounding you with a knowledge of that case, captain, and 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


183 


declined taking it up myself till this morning, when the 
motive power was suddenly given me, Mr. Wynde came to 
me to announce that a dead body had been washed ashore 
at Leith. At his suggestion I went to see it, he wisely re- 
fraining from directing my suspicions in any way, and as 
we stood over it I saw these things: 

A tall, slender woman, long, black hair, very thick and 
beautiful, small hands and feet, attired in a black silk dress, 
without pin or brooch of any kind, and only ornamented by 
a ruche of white lace; one hand clenched like a vise, and 
the mode of her death apparent to all. A white pocket- 
handkerchief, trimmed deeply with real lace of the new 
Mechlin pattern, folded transversely and twisted, was passed 
in a fatal noose around her throat and tied so tight that suf- 
focation must have been inevitable, the knot, mark you, at 
the back of her head. She had been murdered and then 
carried to the sea.^^ 

Sick with the remembrance, Mr. Hazeldean wiped his 
pale face and hastily swallowed a glass of water. 

Lord Tresilyan, intently listening, put a question. 

‘‘ Her appearance, Mr. Hazeldean — her face — describe 
it.^^ 

But Mr. Hazeldean averted a horrified countenance and 
shuddered. 

“My lord, I cannot. Eemember, she has been two 
months deceased. Eemember the delicacy of those 
beauteous features, and judge how well you would describe 
their awful ruin. Ah, she little resembles the magnificeent 
woman whom my brother once sketched for me. But on 
that cambric handkerchief are embroidered the initials, 
‘G. C.^ and her clenched fingers being forced open we 
found this.” 

Mr. Hazeldean took carefully from his pocket-book a 
damp shred of white paper, of what texture it was impos- 
sible to determine, so rumpled had it been in the corpse^s 
clasp and so stained by the brine. 

Its form was this: as if a letter, having been folded twice, 
one of the squares being blank, had been hurriedly torn off 
and made use of to write some words upon. These words 
were not easily deciphered, but when at last the captain 
contrived to do so, unassisted by Mr. Hazeldean, who re- 
fused all aid, he stared blankly in the lawyer^s face. 

For the shred said, in a woman^s agaitated scrawl: 


184 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Moray Hazeldean: A has discovered our love. 

My inconstancy seals my fate. Before you come to me, oh! 
tardy one, I will be no more. Farewell. G. 

Captain Drummond dashed the fatal paper from his 
hand, and it fell, damp and clinging, at my lord’s feet. 

What does that mean?” demanded the stern voice of the 
lawyer. ^ 

It means that I trample on the suspicion coveyed by 

that woman’s last letter; and that I swear that A does 

not stand for Alexander!” cried Captain Drummond. 

^^It means that A has a credulous friend; that 

^ G. C.’ has no avenger in her once fond guardian. Fie, 
man! will you not open your eyes and see?” returned Mr. 
Hazeldean, warmly, moved to passing anger in spite of his 
even temper. But, Captain Drummond, go and see for 
yourself — go with Mrs. Ellathorne, your sister, and claim 
your dead. Surely you will not disown her if your sister re- 
cognizes her?” 

That I won’t, Hazeldean; I’m no rogue,” growled the 
captain. If Hester says it’s Glencora, then I must be- 
lieve so, too; but Hester won’t. No, no, it’s a fearful mis- 
take.” 

Mr. Hazeldean lifted the scrap of paper from the carpet. 

‘^My lord, read and judge if it is not Glencora who 
speaks,” said he, earnestly. 

And his lordship, mastering its brief contents at a glance, 
turned it over, examined its fiber attentively, and then 
picked up Glencora’s note-book, which lay unheeded on 
the table. 

He turned over the sodden leaves one by one, till he 
come to the penciled memoranda which Mrs. Ellathorne 
had been dictating to the Bride-Elect the afternoon before 
the wedding, when she stood at the parlor window watch- 
ing for Alexander, with a smile on her lips. 

‘‘July 25th, leave home; 26th, Liverpool; 28th, Dover; 

30th, Paris; Aug. ” and a long dash finished off the 

notes. 

Lord Tresilyan brought this page to the light, and placed 
the other fugitive scrap beside it. 

“Mr. Hazeldean,” said my lord with knitted brow, “do 
you believe the same hand traced both these writings?” 

Mr. Hazeldean stooped to scrutinize them. Captain 
Drummond came near, and eagerly waited. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


185 


The penciled memoranda in Glencora’s note-book was 
jotted down in that cramped, careless, upright style one 
usually falls into with a short pencil, and the note-book 
held in one^s hand, slanting rather to the left than to the 
right — readable, yet scarcely recognizable. 

The penciled characters of C.^s^^ note were dashed 
olf in a different style — bending, wavering letters, and long 
hair strokes connecting each word with its follower, as if 
the writer had dashed them all off as one breathless excla- 
mation; while the initials at the end, usually characteristic 
of the hand that traced them, were spread over at least an 
inch of space, without stereotyped curve, or mechanical 
elaboration of any kind. 

I see an incontestable proof, uttered Mr. Hazeldean, 
with quickened breath; ^^not in the writing — there is 
nothing convincing in that — but in the paper. See ! the 
shred that we find in the dead woman^s hand, after two 
months’ immersion in the sea, fits the private note-book of 
Glencora Calvert to a nicety. It appears to have been 
written there, and torn out afterward.” 

My lord uneasily fitted the paper. It was as the lawyer 
said. 

My lord held the edge of the shred between his careful 
eye and the light, and a gleam of triumph irradiated its 
doubtful depths. 

The leaves of the note-book were gilt, though tarnished; 
that is still apparent. Yet this shred of paper, fitting so 
accurately, has not been gilt-edged, so far as I can detect.” 

^^The gilt would vanish in a long submersion in salt 
water,” returned Mr. Hazeldean. 

The note-book has been soaking in two months’ nightly 
dews and occasional showers,” retorted my lord. 

But not in the ocean brine!” exclaimed the lawyer. 

Silenced, Lord Tresilyan turned over the remainder of 
the leaves, looking for the vacancy from which the stray 
leaf might have been torn. 

He came to a vacancy at last, where a leaf had been 
wrenched with evident haste from the book — in such haste, 
indeed, as to leave a minute angular portion still adhering 
to the binding; other vacancy there was none. 

My lord silently laid the damp shred in the vacant space, 
and it disproved the lawyer’s hypothesis; the jagged corner 


186 


TEE BRIBE ELECT. 


of the vanished leaf overlapped the perfect edge of the 
other. 

“ More leaves might easily have been pulled from the 
book, which it would be impossible for us to discover if they 
were taken out entire, as this leaf has been,^^ answered the 
lawyer. 

True,^^ responded my lord, keenly. Many things 
might have been; but might proves nothing. This note- 
book has been a new one w^hen dropped from Glencora's 
hand, in some little walk through the fields; therefore every 
page taken from it would leave a decided gap. We see no 
gap but one, and your leaf does not fit it.^^ 

Mr. Hazeldean drew Dreath sharply. 

“ My lord,^^ entreated he, will you not admit what has 
been too evident to me ever since I witnessed the reaper 
pull yon note-book from the ripe corn? Must I stab my 
poor friend, then, to the heart,' by urging with my preju- 
diced lips what your unbiased judgment should urge?^^ 

‘‘I confess I fail to apprehend, said my lord, with 
anxiety. 

Captain Drummond,” breathed Mr. Hazeldean, with 
slow significance, you told me, in our first interview, that, 
the evening of her disappearance, Glencora Calvert stood 
at your parlor window, holding this new pocket-book in her 
hand; that, when she passed through the window with 
her betrothed, she had slipped it into her pocket; that, 
when she was found, it would probably be still in her 
possession, and would guide recognition. Yet it was not 
so, because some other crafty hand nad removed it, and 
all other means of identification, Irom the lifeless remains of 
^G. C.,^ after suffocating her. Alexander Buccleugh was 
the last person seen to walk with Glencora. She had the 
pocket-book in her possession when she left the house. He 
came back by the canal alono, after having parted with her, 
and we find her pocket-book in the corn by the canal.” 

The captain^s ashy lips were glued together, his clasped 
hands were stretched in anguish toward Mr. Hazeldean, as 
they had once before been stretched in anguish, when this 
awful chain of evidence was begun. 

Lord Tresilyan, pushed from refuge to refuge, answered, 
with a hashing eye: 

This is an ungenerous manner in which to sustain your 
position, Mr. Hazeldean. If you wish to prove that Glen- 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


187 


cora is dead, why should you try to prove that Alexander 
murdered her? Do you not see that he could have no mo- 
tive, while other secret foes might have a motive, yet to be 
disclosed?” 

Mr. Hazeldean could not reply. He was bending in sor- 
row over the frenzied captain, whose agitation was fearful; 
his chivalrous heart was aching at the gulf of treachery he 
must unvail to these true friends of the suspected man. 

One thing we have forgotten,” exclaimed Lord Tresil- 
yan, quickly. Your brother Moray received a letter from 
his friend on Tuesday morning, the 25th of July? And 
Captain Drummond has proved that Glencora wrote a letter 
that morning — witnessed by her sister Florice. If that 
letter was produced, with its date, would you be satisfied 
whether it was the same note which your brother thrust 
into your hand to read, and which was signed ^ G. 0.’’ ?” 

The date would satisfy me,” said Mr. Hazeldean, 
eagerly. Can you produce such a letter?” 

Alexander received a letter from Glencora that morn- 
ing, making up some little difference, the only letter she 
wrote that day. He has gone to his residence to find it. 
If, on his return, that letter answers in every particular to 
the letter you received from the hand of Moray Hazeldean, 
with the long name at the close, then it was written by 
‘ G. C.'^, who lies murdered at Leith; but if not, and Alex- 
ander can show the proper date, and prove Glencora^s hand, 
then we shall know that Glencora never wrote to Moray 
Hazeldean, and that consequent she is yet to be found. 
Are you agreed?” 

Mr. Hazeldean bowed; and they waited till the green 
baize door clanged after some one, and Alexander came in, 
fiushed with hasty walking, a trifle w'orried in expression. 

Mr. Hazeldean, Mr. Baccleugh,” said my lord, briefly. 

They looked earnestly each at the other, the lawyer with 
lowering brow and distrustful vigilance, Alexander with 
aroused hauteur and instant constraint. 

Give me the letter, Alexander,” uttered the white lips 
of the captain, and he held out a tremulous hand. His 
manner, his impatience, his unushal addressing of him by 
the most familiar name, had their effect on Alexander. In 
a moment he knew the meaning of the lawyer’s visit. He 
saw that his day had come. 

I see Mr. Hazeldean has been making some communi- 


188 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


cation of a painful nature/’ said Alexander, and when 
you and my lord have examined this letter, I shall expect 
to be made aware of its purport.” 

As he tendered the promised document, his hand was 
seized by the captain’s, and retained in a spasmodic clasp. 

The grasp tightened as the captain glanced from top to 
bottom 'of the dainty sheet of loving words with a pretty 
Glencora signature, and he lifted a glance of despair to 
Alexander. 

^^No,” said Alexander, gently, there was no date what- 
ever. I had not noticed the omission when I mentioned 
the existence of the letter.” 

Mr. Hazeldean’s face flushed scarlet, his nervous Angers 
ran through his thick, moist locks, he averted his dark face 
from Alexander. 

My lord exclaimed immediately: 

'MVhere is the envelope, Mr. Buccleugh? It will give 
the date quite as well, if the letter was posted.” 

‘^^It was posted,” replied Alexander, gloomily. re- 
ceived it in the bank, and in passing terror of some ill for- 
tune to her, I tore the envelope hastily off, leaving it in two 
on my desk.” 

^^Unfortunate!” ejaculated Lord Tresilyan, in tones of 
vivid regret. 

Captain Drummond” — turning quickly to him — ^^go 
and inform Mrs. Ellathorne of Mr. Hazeldean’s tidings, and 
prepare her to accompany us at once to the scene. It is 
time we saw for ourselves.” 

Captain Drummond was hastening from the room, when 
the lawyer looked flxedly at him; he turned his head, and 
met the gaze. 

Beware what you say to her!” said Mr. Hazeldean, 
dryly. 

The captain stared, and then frowned. 

Don’t fear me,” said he, with anger; ^^I’ll tell her 
naught to bias her on either side, naught but the bare 
fact that she must know ere she looks on the woman down 
at Leith.” 

With which he went out, and strode to the parlor. 

Lord Tresilyan gently addressed Alexander: 

Mr. Buccleugh, the purport of Mr. Hazeldean’s visit is 
very unexpected and distressing. My dear fellow, endeavor 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


189 


to hear it with fortitude, in case the person can be identi- 
fied as one lost/^ 

The thin face flushed, the delicate lips strove to compress 
themselves, but quivered with alarm. Alexander made an 
impatient gesture. 

Anything about her breathed he. 

And my lord, with sad inflection, told him. 

Poor, hapless Alexander! Soften the blow as Lord Tre- 
silyan might, vail with blessed uncertainty the terrible drift 
of such a fact, the deadly meaning pursued him, surged 
over him, took away his breath. 

Heaven faltered Alexander, ^Ms it thus I must find 
my love at last? Murdered, her name tarnished, her ex- 
quisite features unrecognizable! Oh, Glencora— oh, Glen- 
cora!’^ 

Lord Tresilyan laid a pitying hand on his shoulder, and 
looked his sympathy. Alexander was quivering from head 
to foot, his nostrils dilated, his eyes dark with horror. Was 
it fear that so unnerved him? 

Sir, she was false to you if she loved my brother,^'’ said 
the lawyer, impelled by busy mistrust. 

And for a moment Alexander laughed scornfully. 

That remembrance calms me,^"* said he, firmly. I 
can never doubt Glencora^s fidelity to me. No, I do not 
believe you have found her. Heaven forbid I” 

We shall prove that,^^ returned the lawyer, coldly. 

They remained in silence till the door reopened, and the 
captain stood on the threshold. 

^^Come,^^ said he, ^^my sister waits. I have told only 
her; the young ladies may be spared until we are sure.^^ 

The four gentlemen repaired to the hall. There stood 
Mrs. Ellathorne, attired for driving, her black robes quiv- 
ering where she held them up in her shaking hands, a thick 
black vail concealing her agonized features. 

Lord Tresilyan handed ^her to his own barouche, and, 
accompanied by Alexander, took his place beside her, while 
Captain Drummond followed the lawyer to his cab. In this 
order they drove to Leith, and in something less than an 
hour drew up before a neat, square building on Leith Sands, 
where many a corpse had been borne from the adjacent 
ocean to await its friends^ recognition, and be buried with 
its own, or be hastily interred by government if no friends 
appeared, 


190 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


They alighted, and my lord giving the support of his arm 
to Mrs. Ellathorne, they entered the long, desolate chamber, 
untenanted save by yon shrouded form on the distant bier, 
and two policemen guarding the door. 

The group of new-comers advanced to the side of the 
dead. My lord lifted back the pall. The police officers 
drew near. 

Captain Drummond bent over her first. He swayed back, 
and caught at Alexander. Alexander, bent over, biting an 
ashy lip, lifted one pallitl hand and laid it back on the 
silken-shrouded breast, looked, with set face, at the cam- 
bric handkerchief, all dark and green with sea-slime, still 
knotted round the throat in deadly noose; and then Mrs. 
Ellathorne was borne forward on the arm of Lord 
Tresilyan. 

She looked at the kerchief, at the corner of it which hung 
loose behind the poor head, and seeing the delicately 
braided initials, and the pattern of the lace, she wrung her 
hands in sudden frenzy, and cried piercingly, in incautious 
anguish : 

‘‘It is Glen Cora’s handkerchief ! and it is Glencora’s 
corpse! Oh, welladay! my brain! my brain!” 

My lord swooped on the captain. 

“Is it?” asked he, in a hissing whisper. 

Captain Drummond, pale as any girl, nodded his head. 

My lord seized Alexander. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Alexander, what do you think? Is 
this she?” 

And Alexander looked at the long, blue-black tresses, at 
the lovely wrist and hand, the face, mercifully shrouded; 
one frantic glance underneath the white linen was enough, 
and he clasped his hands, and raised hopeless eyes to 
heaven. 

“On my soul, I cannot say, my lord!” said he, all too 
truthfully. 

Then Mr. Philip Hazeldean walked to a dingy window, 
and covering his eyes with his hand, stood with his back 
to them. 

Mrs. Ellathorne uttered a cry of despair, and the two 
officers of justice advanced to Alexander. 

“You are my prisoner, sir. Here is the warrant!” 
said ^e. 

. Lord Tresilyan started, and made a frantic spring for- 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


191 


ward, but recovered himself in time to restrain the captain, 
whose blue eyes were blazing wrathfully. 

On what charge, or on whose suit?"^ demanded my lord, 
in a choked voice. 

Charge of murder, suit of Spires & Wynde, on behalf of 
the crown. 

And they led him away, their unresisting captive. 

And thus these lovers met again, and parted, for the last 
time on earth. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

THE GUIDi HCE. 

The crash had come at last. 

So swiftly, so noiselessly, had the danger crept up, cir- 
cling and narrowing round its victim, that when at last he 
fell, scarcely could his frantic friends discern the hand which 
had brought him down. He was borne from their midst, 
unresisting and unquestioning, to his dreary cell, where he 
dreamed of his lost one, from the first sweet advent of her 
coming to glorify his life, unto the bitter end, when that 
dread specter in the shrouded face mocked (xlencoiVs form 
and claimed him as her destroyer. 

As time went on his hesitation deepened into unbelief, 
and his inborn faith in his girPs purity and constancy cried 
out against this pale shade; he would not — could not regard 
her, with the evidences of her treachery to him in her hand 
— as his loyal Glencora. 

No, no, no!” he cried to his friend, Anthony Drum- 
mond, who shudderingly described her dress; the lace-trim- 
med handkerchief, which, when brought home, even Florice 
had recognized instantaneously — the long blue-black hair, 
so rare and splendid; and the possibility that some ‘‘ other 
power, as Lord Tresilyan had said, had removed the twin 
of Strathmore. ^‘No, no/^ cried the unwavering lover, 
lifting a flushing, convinced face from his hands, “ there 
was no guile in Glencora, and that woman was not she. 
You’ll not find treachery in her hands when we meet her 
face to face — should it be at God’s triumph!” 

So much of the clothing of G. C.” as could be removed 
had been sent home, under the special guardianship of Mr. 


192 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


Wynde, however, but who could say with certainty that 
these were the discolored relics of the clothing once worn by 
Glencora. Morice strove in vain, with fainting heart and 
sickened eyes, to pass impartial judgment, but could only 
surmise. Had Jean Malcolm been there the question could 
have been set at rest, for she had attired the bride-elect on 
that fatal morning, and could answer for every shred of 
clothing she wore. But Jean Malcolm, though urgently 
sought, could not be found. 

The next day after the arrest, the prisoner was taken be- 
fore a magistrate, and friends and foes being present, Mr. 
Spires acting as plaintiff, submitted his case in a neat, con- 
cise narrative of the events which caused him to make his 
charge. It was a case which told powerfully against Alex- 
ander Buccleugh. The judge^s face grew grave and por- 
tentous as he listened; Anthony Drummond oftentimes 
wiped his reddened countenance, and darted fiery and in- 
dignant glances at the imperturable Spires; Lord Audley 
Tresilyan, standing near the prisoner, heard with down- 
dropped eyes and contracted brows what was, in effect, one 
unbroken chain of circumstantial evidence against the pris- 
oner; and Harold Eussel, the talented young lawyer, took 
down in short-hand the darkening record, to be weighed 
and dissected and tested, when the final struggle should 
come. 

In a slow, deeply significant, yet monotonous tone. Spires 
read the narrative amid the most perfect silence and atten- 
tion. 

It commenced with a circumstantial account of Alexan- 
der Buccleugh^s previous history, his relations with Miss 
Buccleugh, and all particulars relating thereto; then the 
Hazeldean story was dragged from obscurity and placed 
side by side with Alexander's Edinburgh life, his Edin- 
burgh bride, and that estrangement which was known to 
have been between them. There was one item in the chain 
which told fearfully against Alexander. Calmly and dis- 
passionately it came out that the accused’s cousin, whom 
at one time he thought to marry, had become possessed of 
an additional £20,000 by the death of her maternal grand- 
mother, just ten days before the union with Miss Calvert 
was to have taken place; that despite Alexander’s former 
desertion. Miss Buccleugh still loved him, having given am- 
ple proofs of it, and that there was reason to believe they 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


193 


had acted in concert since the disappearance of Miss Cal- 
vert, as could be seen from the manner in which Miss Buc- 
cleugh comported herself toward him. 

The fortune, of which Alexander should have been a 
sharer, was then spoken of; his comparative poverty; his 
actual embarassments arising from his purchase of Den- 
burn. The quarrel was rehearsed, and Moray^s secret at- 
tachment placed beside it; thus the key to the puzzle of the 
quarrel was given — jealousy. Then Moray Hazeldean’s six 
weeks^ trip to the Highlands, during which the marriage 
was arranged and peace restored — the bride’s variable spirits 
— her appeal on the morning of her disappearance— the im- 
petus given to Alexander Buccleugh in the shape of £20,000 
— jealousy of Hazeldean, and attachment to his cousin, Jes- 
sie — all these circumstances were linked together so as to 
present an unbroken chain of evidence against the accused, 
and prepared the hearers for the explanation of Glencora’s 
disappearance. 

^^On the 25th of July, at half-past five o’clock in the 
evening,” Mr. Spires continued to read, Alexander Buc- 
cleugh and Glencora Calvert left the house of Lady-Bank, 
and walking out of sight of the inmates, were lost to view 
for some time. It is to be remembered that Mr. Buccleugh 
had just walked up Gower lane from Edinburgh, therefore 
if any carriage had been concealed in the lane, or had passed 
through the lane, ho had an opportunity of knowing it. 
Two carriages Tiad been in the lane when he walked up; one 
belonging to Lord Kilcourcy, which passed up from Edin- 
burgh at five o’clock; another, unknown, which turned in 
front of the most private part of Lady-Bank’s grounds, and 
sped back to town between half-past five and six, as vouched 
by the Lady-Bank gardener. 

When Mr. Buccleugh came up to Lady-Bank from Ed- 
inburgh, he did not enter, as usual, but stood at the open 
window and hurried Miss Calvert out to accompany him. 
She stepped out just as she was, without bonnet or cloak, 
and slipping a note-book, which she held in her hand, into 
her pocket, she walked with him down to the avenue gate 
in sight of the house. Nothing passed down the avenue; 
he placed a holly-spray in her hair. As they paused at their 
gate he tied her pocket-handkerchief round her head. That 
holly-spray was found next day in a carriage at Mr. McJen- 
net’s stables; that handkerchief has been recognized by Miss 


194 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


Florice Calvert as that of her sister, upon the dead body 
found on the shore of Leith! 

^‘Now mark these coinciding facts: 

Firstly — A few minutes past four of the same evening, 
a strange-looking man hired a carriage from a cabman be- 
longing to Mr. McJenneFs stables, and paying him five 
guineas to wait at a tavern until his return, drove off. Be- 
-bveen half-past five and six o'clock the gardener of Lady- 
Bank, coming up Gower lane with a load of flower pots, 
met a carriage with a strange-looking man on the box, 
and an old gent inside, sitting with his back to the horses. 
About seven o'clock Mr. McJennet's man and carriage ar- 
rived at the stables, the man much intoxicated and the 
horses blown. In this carriage was found a holly-spray. 

Secondly — At five o'clock on the evening of the 25th 
of J uly, Moray Hazeldean, having that day received a note 
from the unknown lady with whom he was in love, left the 
stables of Mr. Buckle, in a covered carriage, informing his 
brother that he was going to succor the lady from a man 
who was about to marry her, and of whom she was in ter- 
ror. At seven o'clock same morning, Moray Hazeldean 
rushed into the stable-yard where his brother awaited him 
and cried that she was gone. ‘ That he believed her infer- 
nal lover had put her out of the way.' He mentioned noth- 
ing of where he had been or what he had seen; he left his 
brother in the street, and got into a cab. 

When Miss Calvert left Lady-Bank's house for the last 
time, she had a pocket-book in her pocket. Clenched 
within the hand of the woman found dead was found a 
scrap of paper accurately fitting into Miss Calvert's pocket- 
book, bearing these remarkable words: 

‘ Moray Hazeldean A has discovered our love. My incon- 

stancy seals my fate. Before you come, oh, tardy one, I will be no 
more. Farewell ! G. C.’ 

‘^Now who knows what might have occurred during 
those twenty minutes that Miss Calvert and Alexander Buc- 
cleugh were together for the last time? If jealousy and 
self-interest actuated him, as has been proved, might not 
some threat of his during their walk have induced her to 
dash down those words to one whom she evidently expected 
to come and carry her away? Arguing that such was the 
case, might not Alexander Buccleugh have hired the strange 
carriage and man to accomplish a nefarious plot for him. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


195 


have concealed them within the gates of an old manor- 
house, half-way down the lane, until signaled for, have hur- 
ried out the lady to the wicket-gate, and there done the 
deed which avenged him for an inconstant woman, freed 
him from embarrassment, and left him to marry a rich 
cousin who loved him? Assuming this, what course would 
he pursue? Having waited until the maid, Malcolm, was 
out of sight, he would inform her of her faithlessness to 
him; in return she would draw out her pocket-book while 
he was quieting her dog, which would growl at an approach- 
ing carriage; she would stand with her back to him, dash- 
ing down those incoherent words under her cloak, tear out 
the sheet, and crush it in her hand with the agony of the 
death-grip. Her back being to him, he would seize his op- 
portunity, snatch her handkerchief, and make a noose of it, 
tie it round her neck, and sulfocate her, the knot being at 
the back of the neck. The carriage stopping, he could lift 
her hastily into the back seat, send it away with a few in- 
structions, strike into a side-path leading down to the canal, 
fling the pocket-book into the corn — having either wrenched 
it from the lady^s hand for fear of discovery, or picked it 
up from the ground — return to the house with all speed, 
and report his losing sight of Miss Calvert as the conse- 
quence of a trifling bet. 

Then what is easier than for those two men to drive 
back to Leith with their dead burden, remove her bonnet 
and cloak, and all items likely to assist recognition, cast her 
into the water, and rush back to Edinburgh — one to deliver 
back the carriage, the other to seek safety in flight? 

^^Now, for the identiflcation of Moray Hazelzean^s ^Gr. 
0.,^ found murdered on the shore of Leith, with Miss Cal- 
vert lost on the twenty-fifth of July. Moray Hazel dean 
had a profile likeness of C.,^ at the house of his 
brother; when Captain Drummond, in his search for Miss 
Calvert, was led by the Providence of Heaven to the first 
step in the track, he was amazed, while standing in Mr. 
Hazeldean^s drawing-room, at the accurate resemblance of 
this picture to his lost ward. 

Miss Calvert, when last seen by her friends, was clad 
in a black silk dress, trimmed with lace, a bonnet and 
cloak being added to her other attire before she disap- 
peared from the grounds. ^G. C.,'’ found dead, had on 
a black silk dress, trimmed with lace, which, being silk. 


196 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


was spoiled by the water, and rendered undistinguish- 
able. Miss Calvert had in her possession a lawn handker- 
chief, trimmed with a peculiar pattern of lace, with her 
initials embroidered in the corner. ^ G. 0.,^ when found, 
had, twisted so tightly round her neck as to induce suffoca- 
tion, a lawn handkerchief trimmed with lace, which, being 
thread, perfectly retained its original pattern, with the 
initials ^G. C.,^ embroidered in the corner. 

Miss Florice Calvert minutely examined this handker- 
chief, and declared it belonged to her sister. 

Clutched in the dead lady^s hand, as has been said, was 

a fragment of paper mentioning ‘ A ^ as her betrothed. 

Might not * stand for ^ Alexander?^ The dates of the 
disappearance are the same to an hour, the initials of the 
lost and the found are the same. Circumstances, interest, 
and revenge point out the perpetrator who alone could 
benefit by such a disappearance. On these grounds Alex- 
ander Buccleugh had been accused of the crime of 
murder!^’ 

Dead silence followed the reading of the charge. 

In a moment up sprang fiery Anthony Drummond, and 
his voice rang loud and dauntless through the silent 
chamber. 

^^It is false he shouted, bringing his hand down with 
angry force upon the desk before him. ^^It is but a tissue 
of enormous falsehoods made to bear against an innocent 
man. Justice — justice 

So saying, the good captain sat down abruptly, and 
crossed his legs with surpassing firmness. 

Then Lord Tresilyan stepped forward and intimated his 
desire to be heard for a few minutes. 

There are yet two witnesses to be produced before this 
charge can be proved legal. In the first place, Mr. Moray 
Hazeldean must be found to tell the real name of the 
lady called G. C., her family, and her circumstances. In 
the second place, J ean Malcolm, the lady Vmaid, must be 
secured, to identify the clothing of her mistress, if such 
they prove to be. When these persons have proved to 
Messrs. Spire’s and Wynde’s satisfaction the legality of their 
charge, then we shall consider Mr. Buccleugh in danger.” 

In effect, these words had not the slightest weight in the 
minds of those present, so indisputably had the lawyer’s 
story heaped proof after proof of guilt on the prisoner. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


197 


In gloomy and ominous silence, the necessary formulas 
were gone through, and Alexander Buccleugh was re- 
manded to prison to await his trial for the murder of Glen- 
cora Calvert. 

So the luckless champions gathered once more around 
their poor fallen friend in his cheerless cell, and the choleric 
captain nearly broke his heart as he took his place by Alex- 
ander's side. And while thus he fumed and writhed under 
his friend's wrongs. Lord Tresilyan and Harold Eussel 
were equally busy in a corner over a pile of papers and law 
books, deep in eager, whispered consultation, and imper- 
vious to all around. 

Then the cell door was opened, and the turnkey admitted 
a wiry, ugly little man, whom Alexander, after some exam- 
ination, assumed to be Mr. Simon Curtiss. 

Mr. Curtiss seemed much- moved by this recognition. 

Oh, Mr. Buccleugh, how dared they do it?” he muttered, 
clenching his lean little hands. How dare they pitch upon 
you, sir, the very soul and body, too, of honor, as I'd swear 
to, sir, in all the law courts in Scotland. But I'll fetch 
them all aback; at least I'll try; and that's what brings me 
here, sir.” 

What can you do, Curtiss?” asked Alexander, mildly, 
looking from his mean pallet. 

^^I'll explain how, sir,” answered the small man, sinking 
his tones into modest diffidence, as before. Moray Hazel- 
dean is wanted, as Lord Tresilyan said to-day, and I've 
been thinking since maybe I'd be of use to find him, as I 
know an indifferent deal about such jobs. I'd have gone 
off on my own hook, sir, and fetched him back with me to 
refute all their humbug, but, honored sir, there's only one 
thing stopped me.” 

*^What was that, Curtiss?” asked Alexander, pressing 
his hands. 

Want of money, sir,” quoth the little man, with ablush; 
^^and I thought maybe if I could get a lift along in the way 
of expenses, I'd be master of the situation. I'd search the 
continent, sir, and find him in three weeks; I could do it, 
sir, if you'd trust me with the job.” 

‘‘To be sure we'll trust you!” cried Captain Drummond, 
seizing his hand in a blacksmith’s grip. “ God bless you, 
man! You're just wiiat we want!” 

The two other gentlemen, who had been attracted by the 


198 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


little fellow's Tehemence, and were standing dose behind 
him, exchanged glances of congratulation and pleasure. 

‘‘Why, you're the right man in the right place!" cried 
Lord Audley, hastily. “ We don't want a more willing 
agent than you, Mr. Curtiss, to undertake this difficult 
business." 

“ He's innocent, you know, your lordship," said little 
Curtiss, breaking down at being seconded by so great a 
being, and wiping his eyes hurriedly with his scarlet ban- 
dana. “ I'd rather be cut into cat's meat than see so good 
and true a gentleman perish by the law for a stupid pack of 
lies. It would disgrace the law, your lordship; bless you, it 
would, for he's innocent!" 

“Eight, man, and God bless you!" uttered Anthony, 
much affected. 

Alexander looked around on his friends. 

Well, there were some dark clouds in the world for him; 
but were not these true, and loyal, and brave to the core.^ 
His heart thanked Heaven for this. 

“You want a little fitting out, do you?" said Lord Aud- 
ley. “ To be sure; you shall have every convenience, Mr. 
Curtiss. I'll see that you are well provided for your jour- 
ney. Call at my hotel, the Royal Arms, Prince street, in 
the course of two hours, and you'll find a check awaiting 
you, and her ladyship, as well, to wish you Heaven's speed 
on your enterprise." 

Mr. Curtiss, blushing, and almost sinking beneath com- 
bined honors and condescensions, pulled his gray forelock 
many times, turned to Alexander, and with one long, mute, 
indescribable gaze of fidelity, wrung his hand, and mod- 
estly retired as suddenly as he had appeared; and the 
friends continued their consultations uninterruptedly for 
many hours. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

HAROLD RUSSEL'S PROPOSAL. 

Florice Calvert and Jessie Buccleugh were with the Lady 
Rosecleer in the hotel in Prince street when Lord Audley 
and Harold came from their long interview in the prison. 
Two paler lilies might not be seen than these poor girls, as. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


199 


with utter silence, they listened to my lady^s gentle 
conversation and comforting acts, to win them from their 
care. 

The blow which had come upon them was terrible. But, 
of the two, Jessie Buccleugh writhed most under it; for, 
while Florice tearfully and fondly clung to sweet Rosecleer 
Tresilyan, she turned, with bitter shrinking, from every 
scrutiny, to feed on her own stricken heart. 

Florice mourned a lost sister and dear friend. She, a 
misplaced love, and the threatened destruction of the object 
of her passion. Cold and rigid, she kept aloof from the 
penetrating Lady Rosecleer, and, with tortured suspense, 
waited for some arrival from her cousin, that she might 
know her fate. 

A wild, roseate flush suifused her face, as, at last. Lord 
Audley and his friend entered. She half rose from her 
position at a distant window, as if to meet them; but, rer 
Straining herself, sank back, and watched them, her eyes 
black with excitement. 

Ah, welcome, ti*uly, my dear Lord Audley! Welcome, 
dear Mr. Russel, said Lady Tresilyan, making room for 
her husband beside her. ‘^You come much desired by 
these two poor little girls and me. Go, Mr. Russel, and 
comfort that little woman in the window. Give her the 
sunniest side of your picture of the case.^^ 

Mr. Russel, who had been unrolliug his report of Spire^s 
case, paused, glanced at the remote figure between the cur- 
tains, and, rolling it up again, placed it carefully on the 
buffet y and joined her. 

She looked at him with great blue-circled eyes, and ashen 
shadows round the small, sweet lips, and somehow the 
sight of her care-worn face, more tenderly sweet now than 
ever in its days of merriment, probed Harold^s heart with, 
perhaps, the bitterest resentment he had ever harbored for 
a lovely woman. 

Where is he, Mr. Russel? Tell me every thing she 
exclaimed, flushing with impatience. W"hy do you not 
explain in a word whether my cousin is safe or not?^^ 

A stern, cold expression crept to the young lawyer's face 
as he stood looking down at her. 

‘•'I'll win her yet, if there be generosity in woman," he 
thought. 

“ Your cousin is remanded to prisop to await his trial," 


200 


THE 'BRIDE ELECT. 


he answered her, calmly. ^'His case is made very black by 
some circumstances, which,* unfortunately for him, have 
come to light. But, Miss Buccleugh, I, who believe him 
guiltless, will try to do the best with my client.” 

“What circumstances?” demanded Jessie, with knitted 
brows. 

“Do you wish to know all the particulars?” queried 
Harold, with a grave smile. “ Then read the faithful copy 
of Spire^s charge.” 

He took the report from the buffet, handed it to her, and 
with a slight, lingering glance of significant meaning, 
turned his back on her, and joined the others. And Jessie, 
gazing, half alarmed, at the roll of manuscript left in her 
hand, as if in prescience of how vitally its contents touched 
upon her name, at last summoned courage, and began to 
read. 

“ Buccleugh has been committed for trial,” said Lord 
Audley, taking the cold little hand of Florice in a comfort- 
ing clasp; “but we intend to make it a rather difficult 
business for them to convict him. My dear little friend, 
take courage! We shall clear him triumphantly; it is the 
will of Heaven that justice be done.” 

Florice covered her face with her hands, my lady rested 
her beautiful head on her husband^s shoulder, and clung to 
him with a sudden passion of tears. 

“Audley,” she cried, “they have not proved that poor 
corpse to be Olencoraf^ 

“ That is the question,” replied my lord. “ Have they 
proved the identity of the found woman with that of the 
lost? Spires, and Wynde Hazeldeane, and the court say 
yes. All friends of Alexander Buccleugh, and of that pure 
and loyal lady, say no. Rosecleer, I have no hesitation in 
saying, that if Moray Hazeldean, and Glencora^s maid 
Malcolm were found, as witnesses for or against the 
prisoner, this black case would be found to be no case at 
all.” 

Florice listened to this with kindling interest. 

“How?^ she cried, “have they found anything to lead 
them to suspect Jean Malcolm of any participation in this 
aifair ?” 

Lord Audley hereupon gave a succinct account of the 
evidence — having an admirable memory he omitted no de- 
tail which bore upon the case — unless, indeed, that un- 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


201 


happy revelation or accusation against Jessie Buccleugh. 
The two ladies drank in his narrative with astounded ears. 

You are right, my lord/^ said Florice, Malcolm must 
be found; a suspicion has struck me more than once within 
the last few days that she actually knew something more of 
the disappearance than she chose to tell. And I remember 
now that the cook told me that shortly after Glencora dis- ^ 
appeared she saw J ean thrust a piece of gilt-edged paper 
into the kitchen fire.^^ 

Bravo, Florice! You Ve found it!” exclaimed Harold 
Kussel, bringing down his hand, in unwonted excitement, 
on the table. YouVe found the missing sheet of Glen- 
cora’s pocket-book. She did not write that scrap found in 
the dead woman hand.” 

‘^And now, Harold, the ladyVmaid must be found,” said 
Lord Tresilyan. 

She shall be found, my lord,” answered Harold, throw- 
ing up his head with an elated laugh, and we^ll free our 
noble friend. Hurrah!” 

A slight sigh reached his ear. He turned quickly, and 
met the eyes of Jessie Buccleugh fixed upon him mourn- 
fully, yet with softened interest; her face was ashen pale, 
and a stricken, humiliated look haunted every feature. 

AVith a faint signal to him, she rose, and noiselessly left 
the room. 

Tingling to his finger ends, the young man took the first 
opportunity to follow her, and seeing the door of a drawing- 
room across the corridor ajar, pushed it open and entered. 
As he approached, almost uncertain in the dusky glimmer 
of green silken curtains and faintly sparkling crystal gas- 
aliers, whither to bend his steps, his ear caught that low, 
labored sigh again, and looking athwart the gloom, he dis- 
covered Miss Buccleugh^s slight figure on a lounge with her 
face buried in her handkerchief, while the report of the 
evidence was still in her hand, pressed convulsively to her 
bosom. 

AYith a step he was beside her, gently taking possession 
of her hand and raising it to his lips. 

Why have you done this?” murmured Jessie, with low 
tones. 

To show Miss Buccleugh how her love, if misplaced, 
may help to sap a noble and guiltless life,” he replied, 
solemnly; ^^it was needed that you should see how fatally 


202 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


your feelings for your cousin have been made to act 
against him. If you have been misjudged, then such a 
charge can give you little pain. If those spies upon your 
secret heart 

He stopped to steady his rising emotion. 

If they have guessed aright, then Alexander Buc- 
cleugh, true and loyal to the core to his lost bride, may 
be sacrificed before a weak woman^s devotion, and Harold 
Kussel, loving for the first time, is unrequited!’^ 

Miss Buccleugh here dashed down the fatal paper, and 
lifted a face brave, tearless, and resolute. 

'^If I, by a woman’s weakness,” she cried, ^‘^have helped 
him so much as a hair’s-hreadth toward his ruin, I will clear 
him before all the world, even to the laying down of my 
life. Harold, I frankly tell you that my whole heart and 
soul are devoted to him, and yet I knew it not. Now that 
my miserable folly confronts me, I would tear out that 
heart and throw it in the fire before it should betray him 
to ruin. But I wish publicly to clear him from this charge, 
and to dash the scorpion lash in their own teeth, that they 
shall no longer make a hinge of me. Tell me, my friend, 
what can I do? Tell me how I can prove to all the world 
that there is nothing between us.” 

There s one way to prove that,” murmured the young 
pleader, bending toward her with soft and tender glances. 
‘^Show to all the world which is the man you do love.” 

Harold, you once loved me — do you still respect me?” 

Then he clasped both her hands, and answered vehe- 
mently: 

‘‘You have committed a great error, Jessie; but I believe 
you when you say it was unconsciously. Yes, I respect you 
fully — yes, I love you fondly, absolutely. My wmole life 
and my inmost heart are yours, Jessie.” 

A proud, grateful smile passed over the girl’s face. 

“You are noble and generous,” she said, “and I long to 
prove to you my gratitude. Take this hand; trust it, for it 
IS the hand of a woman who would scorn a dishonorable 
thought, and if Jessie’s esteem and faith in you will do for 
a bride’s passion, believe me that love will come when she 
is bound to you, and your life'fehall be none the less happy 
that you have taken to your heart a weak and foolish girl.” 

This little speech transported the clever pleader so much 
that he clasped her in his arms, and swore, amid tender 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


203 


caresses that he was the happiest fellow in the world 
that summer night, and that Alexander should be a free 
man for the express purpose of attending the wedding. 

And as, an hour afterward, the pair emerged into the 
hall with quiet, deep happiness imprinted upon their faces, 
they met my lady Rosecleer and Florice tripping down 
stairs in full traveling costume, while in the hall below was 
a most animated and busy company. Lord Audley, more 
excited than usual, was eagerly explaining some important 
subject to Captain Drummond, who, hat in hand, stood by 
the open door, with amazement depicted on his brown face. 
The plebeian little figure loomed remotely in the distance, 
among gleaming carriage-lamps, and while Harold stared 
he got into a small cab, tucked in his black bag, nodded 
up to the door, and trotted off, leaving a carriage and pair 
still waiting before the door, into which sundry trunks were 
being stowed. 

\Vhy, whaFs in the wind?” ejaculated the young law- 
yer, at last catching Lord Tresilyan^s eye. 

An expedition — no time to explain — a few minutes to 
train- time. Anthony, here, will tell you all about it after 
he comes back from the station,” answered my lord, getting 
into a traveling-coat. 

‘^Be off, boy, and fetch a coach to accompany them to 
the station,” cried the captain. ^‘It’s glorious! — it’s do or 
die this time!” 

Russel, whispering to Jessie to ^^get her hat,” vanished. 

Then Rosecleer Tresilyan, with damask cheeks, like the 
heart of a velvet rose, and black eyes orient with light, 
looked down on Jessie, and kissing her, exclaimed: 

Good-by, Jessie. We’ve got the plan at last. Good- 

by!” 

And last, with brimming hope and sweet liquid courage 
in her eyes, came Florice Calvert. 

We’ll win the victory,” she said, with impressive 
emphasis. Jessie, look up — look up! God is shining 
down!” 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE COMING DOOM. 

The wind blew cold and wildly around the gray tower of 
Strathmore, and the waves dashed high against the lady’s 


204 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


western windows. A bitter night, that heralded an angry 
morning, scarcely meet for hardy Highland shepherd to 
pace the moor in; yet my lady met the storm in its fury, 
and swept through it, a silenced soul, back to her loveless 
tower. 

What recked Kilmeny Strathmore the biting blast and 
the sheeted brine that met her on her way. For at last was 
her life unfolded to her, her destiny forecast, her doom 
prophesied. Long may she muse over her night with the 
Witch of Strathmore! 

In the dawn, mistress and maid knocked loudly at the 
tower gate, and admitted by the trembling Ronald, came 
in, all b^athed in spray, silent and white-faced, and hurrying 
across the flags, vanished up the winding stairs, then locked 
the doors, and ghostly stillness was the order of the day till, 
in the dreary afternoon, up came Kenneth, Tyndale^s second 
son, a suitor for the Strathmore May. 

She came to him, cold as a frozen sea, no flitting scorns 
and bursts of fiery passions now! My lady^s spirit was at 
last exorcised. 

She looked in his face with unearthly eyes, her thin 
hands tightly clasped, her weak figure leaning against the 
massive iron window stile; she looked in his face till his 
heart was like to break, but never a word said she. 

Kenneth drew near, and his words "were few and elo- 
quent: 

Lady Kilmeny Strathmore, I dare not ask your love, 
because it was the sweet possession of another, and such 
women as you exchange hearts but once. I know your 
loneliness and anguish, your passionate remorse for a bitter 
error in the past, and that your life will never more flow 
genially; yet. Lady Kilmeny, I crave to share that life with 
you. You love the smallest pebble in Aberdeen better than 
all Strathmore; the wreck of your lover more than the 
worthiest man in broad Scotland; and rough fate has de- 
creed you to marry either Robin or Kenneth. Do you 
choose between two hearts that lie equally loyal at your 
acceptance, or will you give this frail hand unquestioningly 
to me, because I come first 

A faint flicker of the royal eyebrows disturbed the serenity 
of her countenance. She lightly laid a wan hand on his 
thrilling breast, and her black eyes scanned his face. 

Do you love Kilmeny Strathmore?'^ softly spoke she. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


205 


But his sensitive cheek crimsoned, his ingenuous eyes 
sought the floor. 

I have never dared to love you, Lady Kilmeny. Hith- 
erto it has seemed like presumption for me to hope for your 
hand. Yet, tell me may I love you now?^^ 

^^No, no, Kenneth Strathmore breathed my lady, low. 
Reserve that chivalrous heart for brighter May than 
gloomy Kilmeny. You would never be happy with me, 
and happiness is greater than state and castle. Kenneth, 
for one short hour of that life I once so merrily lived, I 
would lay me down and die. Be content, cousin. Your 
heart is not cursed with love for me. Therefore I may be 
true to the House and yet say no. There! go, and get free 
from my gloom. Let me wait for the end."'' 

She swayed from him, a cold despair chalking lip, brow, 
and cheek; she swayed dizzily aside, and signed for him to 
go; but, with keen face, instinct with generous feelings, he 
caught her feeble hands and kissed them, with kind 
solicitude. 

Be cairn, sweet Cousin Kilmeny besought the student, 
mournfully. Heaven does not send such bitter storm but 
to' presage a fair to-morrow. You will yet be happy in the 
devotion of a noble heart which beats for you alone. Your 
generous soul will respond to it in time. Farewell, dear 
lady; I will trouble you no more.'’^ 

And he quietly crossed the room, and passing out, he 
softly closed the door; and my lady hung her quiet face on 
her breast, and prayed for an end to her unhappy life. 

^‘^And now/^ sighed my Lady Kilmeny — ‘^now shall 
Robin come, the loyal and true, and I dare not say him no. 
Alas! that lightsome heart should be linked to such heavy 
woe ! Poor Robin ! poor Robin 

But all her moaning might not avert the Doom. 

So the day set in blackness and mist, and once more the 
storm king roved abroad in his whirlwind car, to lash the 
elements into ungovernable fury; and once more dire aston- 
ishment and fell rage ruled high in Bracken Hough, while 
the student, Kenneth, told his tale quietly, and without 
laments. 

‘^My malison on ye baith, for a pair o^ loons !^^ roared 
Laird Tyndale; a gay pickle ye ha" made o"t amang ye! 
But here"s Robin yet, an" she aye favored him maist. Maybe 
ye"ll win her Robin, if the auld clootie is na in her."" 


206 


TEE BRIDE ELECT 


Robin, striding back and forth in the darkening hall, his 
two tall hounds dogging his steps with waving tails, and 
meekly laid ears, turned the corner of the huge table sharp, 
and strode up to his father and elder brothers, with brown 
face smiling curiously, and blue eyes lowering curiously; 
and as he spoke, his hounds squatted at his feet and 
watched him, and wagged their tails when his eyes fell on 
them. 

Rather, smiled Robin’s lips, while his brow grew dark- 
er. “I’m ready to say my say to Lady Kilmeny as soon as 
ye like; but dinna think to put phrase in my mouth. I ha’ 
lang kept by rote the words I’ll say to Kilmeny Strathmore 
when I gang to woo her. Let me gang my ain gait.” 

“ Bravo, Robin!” cried the keen laird, well pleased. “ If 
ye’ll but avert the war-locK. ye’ll win a bonnie bride.’’ 

“ A bonnie tigress,” growled Major Gavin in his beard. 

“Poor, luckless Kio&!” muttered Kenneth to himself. 
“How shall breezy Robin thaw that frozen heart?” 

But Robin kicked his tawny dogs up, and marched off to 
the stables to look at his favorite thoroughbred, to jest with 
his grooms and peasant people, and to win by his comely 
good nature the hearts of his father’s clan from the stern 
old chieftain. 

There was many a hind in broad Strathmore that would 
follow Brown Robin, come weal or woe, and grimly did the 
crafty laird eye the fact askance. 

And so another day came in, a day of stormy waiting for 
my lady — of tears, and prayers, and trembling for her maid. 
Fair, serene, smiling, unlike the day of doom, as roses are 
thunderbolts — yet this rose of days bore in its heart the 
Doom of Strathmore. 

Will she wed or will she die? 

The wiry laird, picking fast over the stony road to Strath- 
more, would fain wrest foreknowledge from sunny firma- 
ment or emerald earth, which his sharp eyes constantly 
glowered at, but Robin never curved anxious eyebrow over 
the question, but galloped on his gallant mission, unvexed 
by secret query. 

They rode into Strathmore Tower, and clanked up stairs 
to the audience-chamber. And scarce had the glum old 
steward withdrawn, and they had seated themselves, than 
in dropped Lady Kilmeny, a hectic blaze on each poor 
cheek, a wild unrest in the glittering eyes. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


207 


She bowed in bitter courtesy to her uncle; she turned 
meekly to her cousin, and like a child she came to him and 
gave him her hand. 

Robin — Robin sighed my lady, faintly. You too!” 

As if she had hoped and hoped, yet dared not wonder that 
her hope was false. 

But he held that sweet hand in close clasp, and gazed upon 
her with sad reproach, and his great heart thrilled with fear 
and pain. 

Rest thee, cousin,” murmured wild Robin, the hunter. 

1^11 ne’er be the man to woo thee against thy will.” 

He threw cool regards on his grim father. 

She’s near enough the Strathmore vault now, Laird 
Tyndale, do you see?” 

The old laird hitched uneasily under the accusing gaze of 
Robin and the unwonted silence of my lady. AVhat made 
the girl so slow-tongued to-day, so soft and meek and 
heavenly sweet? Dying? Heaven forbid! The old man 
blanched deathly white at the very thought. 

No, no, ’twas love. She loved Robin. See that half-timid 
look fixed on him; that patient and submissive attitude of 
attention. 

The laird shook off the curious chill that was running 
down his back, and began with a usual oration. 

^^My lady, after what happened yesterday, you maybe 
know .what errand we are on this morning. I come to plead 
with you for Strathmore weal. Robin comes to pray you to 
listen to his suit. Are you ready at last to fulfill your vow. 
Lady Kilmeny?” 

My lady looked not at the laird, but still in Robin’s face. 

‘'Robin, before I agree to your demand, you must agree 
to one of mine,” said she, curious lights flickering from eye 
to lip. “ There is something must be explained before you 
make any proposal. Laird Tyndale, why do you frown on 
me? I have something to tell him!” 

With a scathing flash of her old scorn she shot this at the 
laird who stood aghast, while Robin stared from one to the 
other. 

“ Kilmeny, my lady,” stammered the laird, “let the pro- 
posal be accepted before the story is told. I beg — I command 
you, Robin, to make your request,” cried he, beside himself 
with fear. 

But Robin turned a deaf ear. 


208 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


Let my lady speak for once, unchecked,” said he stub- 
bornly. “ What do you fear from her mouth? She at least 
can speak truth.” 

So the laird fixed a basilisk gaze on her resolute face, and 
bade her say on. 

/‘Your prophecy says nothing about the disposition of 
Strathmore^’s wealth,” began the lady, whose collected man- 
ner showed that the subject had been well conned in her 
mind; “ and only refers to the marriage of the May. Learn- 
ing this, I have at length arranged my future course to my 
own satisfaction. I wish to olfer my kinswoman. Lady 
Eosecleer Tresilyan, an equal right to the property you 
forced me to usurp from her. I shall claim no more than 
is justly mine. Laird Tyndale, you know how much is 
justly mine.” 

She paused, a soft tremor had run through her words, 
and now a tear blinded her eye. 

But Laird Tyndale watched her with a cruel gaze. 

“What makes you want to do this?” hissed he between 
his teeth; and in spite of himself his heart beat loudly as he 
awaited her reply. 

She bent toward him, a certain unearthly triumph on 
her worn face, her slight fingers clasped over her swelling 
bosom. 

“ Because, good laird, I have spent a night with the Witch 
of Strathmore.” 

He bounded from his chair with a stifled oath, and grasped 
her fragile arm savagely. 

“ What was the doom she gave you, girl?” demanded he, 
in the choked voice of suppressed passion. 

Lady Kilmeny^s eyes were drenched in awe; her pale lips 
gathered a desperate smile. 

“ If I am disloyal to my house I must meet the doom of 
Lady Gillvray Strathmore.” 

She bent to his ear, and her lips framed two little words 
inaudibly, and the laird stood transfixed, with the cold sweat 
oozing out on his forehead, while she slipped from his re- 
laxing hold, and turned aside to grieve sternly over the fate 
of the hapless Flower of Sutherland. 

With returning fire to his eagle eye, and high nose more 
arrogant than ever, the laird paced heavily to and fro. 

At last he stooped over her with insinuating address. 

My lady, knowing what you know, and what I meant 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


209 


to tell you in due time myself, does it not behoove you to be 
doubly mindful of the interests of your house, and not to 
cast behind you every advantage and birthright for the sake 
of sickly sentiment 

She looked up imperatively. 

‘"No arguments shall induce me to contest the property 
another day, sir. At once I shall stop litigation. Unless 
you agree to this I cannot agree to Robin^s request, come 
what will. Let me but meet with her^^ — my lady^’s tones 
softened to tremulous music — “and we shall strive no more 
for black Strathmore Tower, for I will not be lady here till 
she bids me be so. Lord Tyndale, I have resolved. 

The laird straightened himself with a dry sneer, and 
looked at her from tip to toe. 

“ My lady, you are a magnanimous soul; let us see if your 
honor extends to the fulfilling of your sworn vow. Well, 
well, give Strathmore a true-blooded bride, and you shall 
e^en have your way. Robin, I adjure you, sign the contract 
and get her signature. My lady, you have promised fairly 
enough, now perform. 

AVith which the old man hurried to the door, gave one 
beseeching glance at Robin, a helpless stare to my lady,* and 
slid through the aperture to wait in the banqueting hall for 
better news. 

Lady Kilmeny sat by the swung window, her patient face 
toward Robin, soft and sorrowful, till he raised himself 
from the constrained attitude he had maintained during 
his father^’s interview, and steadfastly returned her gentle 
gaze. 

“ Robin, make your request,” sighed my lady, in a tone 
that shook his breast with evanescent rapture. 

He strode across the sumptuous chamber, and stood over 
her, tall and comely, and with passion thus he spoke: 

“Lady Kilmeny, do you know that I love you?” 

And she, mournfully: 

“I know it, Robin.” 

“Yet you have not loved me, Kilmeny, nor tried to love 
me.” 

She hung her head in convicted silence. 

“And you cannot forget what true love was, my lady?” 

She gasped a faint “ah, no — ah, no! Yet, Robin/^ with 
infinite pathpg, “ I will try to fgrget, for your sake, I will 


210 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


make as faithful a wife as you deserve, if not as leesome a 
bride. I trust you, Eobin.^^ 

His hands fell on her shoulders, he bent and looked in 
her face with anguish and reproach. 

“ Kilmeny, you believe I love you, and you trust me, yet 
you treat me as your most ruthless foe. Do you then be- 
lieve me capable of the dastardly deed of dooming my be- 
loved to a living death, of wearing out her sore heart by 
my unwelcome devotion? No, lassie, you are free. By 
heaven and earth, I will not marry you till you turn a loving 
face and stretch out your hands for Eobin in true love. 
Sweetheart, if that were ten years hence I would wait for 
you, for 1^11 never love woman as Eve loved you. There 
may be many years for both of us yet, then why force a lot 
upon you which you cannot bear?^ Mourn your lost days 
yet awhile, my lassie, and when the grief is past then re- 
member Eobin. 

In a sudden access of emotion he raised her from her 
chair and clasped her fondly to his noble heart, and she 
with looks of amazement and anxiety clung to his arm and 
strove to speak. 

promise, Eobin, and the DoomP^ gasped my lady, 
with throbbing heart. 

Holding her close he scanned each lovely wasted feature 
of face and form, and Brown Eobin^s heart swelled high 
with grief and love. 

Po'or wan wraith sighed he, with a trembling accent. 

What cruel laws are Strathmore laws for thee. But fear 
naught, my bonniebel, it is not you this time who has 
broken the vow; it is bold Eobin. And curse or doom 
shall never fall on you while I have a stout right arm and 
merry men at my back to defend you withal. Cheer you, 
poor bird; you are safe as long as I am above the sod."*^ 

He lifted her like a child and carried her upon his broad 
breast to a couch and tenderly laid her down; he kissed her 
clinging hands, and bent his hot face upon them, and 
brown Eobin^s cheek waxed cold with the wrenching of his 
wishes from his will. 

For she might have been his wife, and she might have 
come to love him well, and he dare not speak the words 
that linked her to him forever. His heart fought hotly 
with his honor. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


211 


My lady^s great, wistful eyes were glittering, and adown 
her cheeks slow tears were flowing. 

‘‘Noble manT^ sobbed Lady Nilmeny; “Heaven will 
bless you for this day^s mercy on a poor drowning soul. 
You little know the awful fate you have saved me from/^ 

He raised his face quickly from her hands and caught her 
vivid expression. 

“Tell me the fate, Kilmeny?^^ prayed he. 

And she murmured, shuddering. 

“ Insanity!” 

“ But now?^^ asked Robin in a hushed voice: 

A smile, sudden, sweet, and strange flitted over that 
piteous countenance. 

“But now, good Robin, I shall die shortly, at rest, and 
with all my loved around me, and Rosecleer^s kiss shall be 
the last on these cold lips. Heigho! I shall soon lay me 
down beside the bonnie Flower of Sutherland, never more 
to be sundered 

For a time there was silence between these two who had 
met for such different purposes. 

At last Robin aroused himself. 

“ My father must be informed of my decision, for I shall 
not call it yours. It is anxiety that is wearing your life out, 
and I shall so represent to him, and obtain his promise to 
molest you no longer."’^ 

She looked up confidingly as he rose to leave her. 

“Thank you, dear Cousin Robin, fell gratefully from 
her lips. “ Come back very soon and hear my plans. 

And so they parted, Robin and Kilmeny, and the Doom 
approached with rapid stride — the Doom of the Double 
Roses. 

Sti*aight to the banquet hall trod Brown Robin, and stood 
before his anxious sire, half smiling, yet half sad. 

“Her answer, lad?^^ cried the hasty laird. 

“Tears and a blessing, quoth brown Robin. 

“And the wedding-day, Robin 

And the bold hunter laughed with derisive laughter, that 
shook the rafters. 

“Oh, we have postponed that, my father, quoth he, 
with sarcasm. 

“How long?” faltered the laird, scenting danger. 

“ Forever !” replied the youth, composing himself. 

Father, I refuse to ask Lady Kilmeny ^s hand in marriage 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


m 

until she can love me enough to call me to her feet, which 
will never be. She has fallen a victim to your most atro- 
cious system of coercion. Laird Tyndale, she has but few 
more days to live, and by that lily hand and wan cheek I 
swear to be the man that will keep them free from oppres- 
sion. To your teeth, Laird Tyndale, I tell you I will hold 
to my oath.” 

^^Eobin, are ye mad!” roared the laird. ^^Do ye con- 
sent to gie back the braw lands o^ Strathmore and the title 
and gear to the English traitress. Lady Tresilyan? Do ye 
consent to gie Lady Kilmeny her certain death if she 
proves disloyal? The curse, man! — the curse is hanging sae 
low o’er her head that it’s e’en now singeing her hair. 
Gang awa back, lad, and mak anither devoir — she’ll tak ye 
yet; for I tell ye she likes ye weel enough.” 

Thus wheedling, the unhappy laird strove to turn the 
opposing tide that was sweeping him on to desperation; but 
Brown Eobin towered frowningly over him, and his eyes 
shot lurid fire. 

^^It shall never be said that Eobin Strathmore stole the 
liberty of a weeping May. Do your worst. Lady Kilmeny 
shall wed no man till she rises from her days of mournmg, 
be they long or short.” 

God’s malison on ye for a laggard in love and a 
cowardly rebel!” hissed the laird, transported with fury. 

He stepped to an eastern window that looked far over the 
inland dell, drew it up, and raising a small silver whistle to 
his lips, blew a blast so high, so shrill and penetrating that 
the welkin rang again. 

^^Ha, my lad!” sneered the laird, turning on his son 
furiously, we’ll see whose side is stoutest. Good clay- 
mores and Highland pluck shall front your coward de- 
fiance. I see it’s all a concocted plot between you an’ yon 
woman, who is making a tool of you, poor child. But we’ll 
redd you out o’ the mess, and we’ll marry her, aye or no, 
to Gavin!” 

And with that, Laird Tyndale ran to the hall door, with 
a wary eye on Eobin, who, reading in a moment his father’s 
purpose of making his exit and locking him in the hall, 
sprang after the laird, reached the passage first, and rush- 
ing to my lady’s audience-chamber, locked it instead, 
pocketed the key, and leaned his back against the door, 
confronting his baflaed father grimly. 


TUB BRIDE ELECT. 


m 


Toiled in each intention at its birth, Laird Tyndale, 
growling heavily, took his way to the court, and clanked 
about, sowing sedition between my lady and her few Tower 
attendants, till up the glen tore the retainers of Bracken 
Hough. Then ensued a parley, fierce and imperative. 
Eonald, the gate-keeper, swore that not a man should enter 
the court without the leave of my lady herself, and Laird 
Tyndale, meditating and finessing to his hearths content, 
and all to no purpose, was forced at last to fall on the meek 
though trusty sentinel, and in a hearty hand-to-hand 
wrestle, to stretch him in stunned neutrality on the fiags, 
while he snatched the keys from him, and opened the re- 
doubtable door himself. 

In they poured, three score strong, peasants, shepherds, 
and servitors, each drilled to the use of his weapon, and 
awaited the will of the laird. He made them a speech, 
this astute laird, a neat little speech that cooled their 
loyalty and heated their ire, that numbed their reason and 
awoke their wildest superstition, until loud murmurs rose 
against the double-tongued maid Kilmeny, who vowed to 
save the house and now was drawing back from her word; 
and then he eloquently railed on Eobin, who would not 
marry the May himself, yet upheld her in her rejection of 
his own brothers; and then sullen eyes looked into neigh- 
boring eyes, and beetling brows met under cockaded bon- 
nets, and a dead lull fell on the people — as stiff a throng as 
ever maddened party orator by sulky silence. 

And now, men, to the attack. Wefil hurl yon doited 
sot from my lady^s door, wefil seize my lady, and wefil set 
her in the deepest dungeon in Strathmore Tower till she 
marries Major Gavin. An' if he fails this second time in 
wooing, then, lads, you'll lose your lady, for the Doom bides 
na lang from the Judases ad' Jezebels o' Strathmore House. 
Forward, my men!" 

And waving his sword with inspiriting gesture, the laird 
led the way to the foot of the stairs. 

But what is this assails his ears? 

Mumbled oaths — uncouth oaths, dissenting murmurs, and 
open rebellion I And in the height of it, down stepped Brown 
Eobin, and stood in their midst. 

‘^Eally, my true men!" shouted the fresh, breezy voice of 
the hunter. Who will fight for Eobin and honor?" 

And a rush was made — a shout — a scurry, as opposing 


214 


THE BRIDE ELECT, 


factions struggled to suppress the gathering of Robin's 
friends to their leader, and the old laird fumed and stamped 
and roard commands, as his lean face grew blood red with 
rage. 

“Who is for Strathmore?" screamed Lord Tyndale. 

And the two forces parted in the midst, a goodly array on 
either side, the majority, alas, on the laird's. 

The leaders, father and son, eyed each othei with hearty 
disfavor. 

“ Propose for my Lady Kilmeny, and I shall leave the 
Tower with all my men behind me," growled the pompous 
laird. 

“ I'll neither propose for my Lady Kilmeny, nor will I 
leave a man whole enough to follow you in your flight from 
her Tower," quoth Browp Robin, between his teeth; “ and, 
moreover, I defy you to harm a hair of her head." 

Then Laird Tyndale looked round on the parted throng, 
a wrathy man. 

“Fall on, lads," cried he, in lordly omnipotence, “and 
first take Robin Strathmore and bind him to yon pillar!" 

Ha! ha! As easily might a swarm of midges carry down 
the bold eagle’s nest from Morven Peak! They rushed and 
they hustled, they hacked and they tore; they forward 
leaped, and pell-m.ell spun back again. Yet, Brown Robin 
stood firm as a rock in the breakers, in the midst of his 
men. 

And hotter waxed the conflict, as stout warriors lay low 
on the court flags, and Robin's handful wavered, and closer 
pressed the virulent laird to take him, when, with a sudden 
sweep of the sword that cleared a space before them, Robin 
and two of his followers made a sortie, gained the foot of 
the stairs, and sprang like the wind up the flight to guard 
the door of the audience-chamber, where lay my lady, com- 
forted by faithful Mysie. 

Then, for the first time, he drew his pistols — an unusual 
weapon in old Strathmore — from his breast, leaned his back 
against my lady's door, and dauntlessly gazed down the 
narrow passage to the stairs, where the flrst pursuer must 
appear. 

“ The flrst foe that crosses the landing is a dead man!" 
shouted Robin. 

And his penetrating tones reached to the court below, 
where the laird stood triumphant, declaring the victory to 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


215 


his half-pleased men, and Eobin’s followers lay groaning, 
disabled, or dead. 

And when they heard that, a sudden lull fell on the hu- 
man tempest; the little phalanx advancing to the foot of 
the towers turned back. Laird Tyndale^s evil face waxed 
diabolic. 

""An ill death may he die!” cursed the laird, at bay. 
"" Hand awa, lads! I'll gang mysel'. He'll no daur to shoot 
his ain father. Who'll creep in ahint the shield o' my 
body?” 

And Black Balfour and surly Wedderburn stepped forth. 

""Hurrah for Strathmore's laird!” shouted the retainers, 
all. 

Thus the wily wolf hoped to reach poor Red Riding-Hood, 
and thus were his long claws clipped, and his sharp teeth 
broken. 

The laird's gray locks had but appeared on the proscribed 
landing, when Robin shouted, sternly: 

"" Back, father! Dinna risk your body there! It'll fa', 
sure as death if ye winna turn an' tak' your carles wi' you ! 
When Laird Tyndale fights for gallantry and honor, none 
so ready to fight at his elbow as Robin the Hunter; but 
when he crushes a captive woman wi' cunning spite, his 
blood shall be no more sacred in my sight than the 
blood o' a stark mad hound. Awa', Laird Tyndale while 
ye're safe!” 

Impressed by the admonition, the shrewd old face disap- 
peared from the landing, and the laird hoarsely communed 
with Balfour and Wedderburn, half-way down stairs. 

Meantime, Robin with his back to my lady's door, heard 
a loud cry from Mysie, and the suppressed prayers of my 
lady that he would open the door. 

Handing one pistol to one of his men, Robin instantly did 
so, and met Lady Kilmeny on the threshold, tall and ghost- 
like as a specter. 

She smiled a little as her faithful friend came in, and 
waved her hand toward one of the deep windows which 
overlooked the court. 

There, scowling through a pane, Robert met the visage of 
one of the laird's men, who knelt on the broad stone sill 
outside, and wrenched at the sash to force it open. 

Simultaneously with Robin's appearance in the chamber, 
the head vanish^, and frantically the body belonging to it 


216 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


scrambled down to terra firma again; while Eobin, dashing 
open the sash, was in excellent time to admire the hastily 
constructed rope ladder that dangled from the sill, and to 
slash it in shreds with hearty good will. Then, dropping 
the tattered remnants, with their heavy iron clinches at- 
tached, unceremoniously on the heads of the jostling crowd 
in the court, he turned to the beleagured women. 

Mysie, with terrified tears rushing down her cheeks, had 
been heroically standing between her mistress and the as- 
sailants,. prepared to battle in true Amazonian fierceness for 
her lady^s sake, and was now crying heartily behind my 
lady, with her face to the wall. 

This is no place for you, Kilmeny,^^ murmured Brown 
Eobin, with love’s own softness. Ye maun flee for safety, 
my dove. Ye maun flit to the wee tower chamber, and 
bolt yoursel’ and Mysie in, till I disperse the crows that 
would pick your bonnie bones. Here are two keys I 
took this morning from the laird’s cabinet, where they hae 
laid hidden for many a day. This is the key o’ yon wee 
tower chamber, where hang Lady McGillvray’s an’ Lady 
Tresilyan’s portraits. There ye shall hide for safety till I 
come back. This is the key o’ a subtle trap-door in the floor 
o’ the banquet hall, an’ then I shall escape to scour the 
country for my men. Ye shall hide in unsuspected safety, 
while I rove in unsuspected freedom, an’ afore the day is 
done you shall rule Strathmore, with two hundred men to 
back you. My twa sentinels shall keep the landing secure 
till the castle is full o’ my followers, an’ then I’ll come to 
you when the day is won. Haste ye, Mysie. Flee up the 
stairs. I’ll guide the lady mysel’.” 

Throwing an arm firmly around Lady Kilmeny’s waist. 
Brown Eobin bore her across the threshold, and in silence 
half carried her through the devious passages of the deserted 
tower up stairs to the mysterious tower chamber, so long 
sealed to her. The nimble waiting-woman preceded, the 
aged steward, Andrews, brought up the rear, mutely wring- 
ing his old hands over the jeopardy of his bonnie lady, and 
bewailing the day. 

The little key was fitted in the rusty lock. It turned with 
a reluctant grit in the strong fingers of Strathmore. In a 
moment the door was open. The cobwebs rent from post 
to post, the dust falling in white powder from the stiJK 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


217 


hinges. Lady Kilmeny and her maid entered, and the 
door was locked behind them. 

‘‘ Watch yon here, Andrew,” commanded Eobin, in a tri- 
umphant whisper. Tell neither friend nor foe where Eve 
putten my lady till I come back with half the country to 
give her back her tower. She’s bolted within, and she’s 
locked without, and I’ll carry away the key, which the laird 
thinks safe at Bracken Hough, so if they burned the Tower 
o’ Strathmore, and riddled the ashes, they wad ne’er find 
Lady Kilmeny till I find her for them. Bide awee, An- 
drew, man, she’ll rule right royally in Strathmore, in spite 
of man or devil!” 

And, elated. Brown Eobin tramped down stairs to his 
trusty twain, still ostentatiously guarding the door of the 
empty audience chamber, whispered them his orders, tramped 
into the hall, and let himself down through a secret trap- 
door all true Strathmores knew of in that castle, and so 
reaching a private stair-way, traversed a long underground 
passage, which at last emerged into a deep cavern on the 
sea-shore, and thus escaped a free man, to prove his popu- 
larity among the gentry, peasantry, and hinds of Suth- 
erland. 

Meantime, the laird, foiled in each little arrangement in 
turn, retired to the bosom of his people, and, taking pos- 
session of the court, conspired and schemed to his heart’s 
content, his men listening with eyes elongated and mouths 
agape, to the words of the clever Fox of Strathmore. Hours 
passed in close debate before Laird Tyndale could make up 
his mind how to get at the perverse pair who were ready 
enough to cling to each other for no good, and then, no 
sooner was the attack agreed on than in ran and rode the 
laird’s boors from Golspie and the intermediate sheep-fells 
with notable news. 

They whispered it to the warriors under arms, and they 
muttered it to the quaking tower servants, herding in a 
cowed knot in a corner; but never a man of them was stout 
enough to stand before Lord Tyndale and say that word. 

“ What are ye talkin’ and grinnin’ o’er, ye meddlesome 
gawks?” blustered the testy laird, resenting the diversion. 

Then Wedderburn, the sourest dog in the train, saun- 
tered up to his laird, and crustily snapped he: 

Send us hame. Lord Tyndale, for a’ your wit is but 
blathers the day, an’ the battle’s lost. My lady has tane 


218 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


fern seed an’ ’scaped us a’. She gangs free in Golspie 
Tower, wi’ a hunder men to back her, while we lurk like 
pud docks on a stane, yelping at her tower gates!” 

The laird turned treinlbling to the new-comers. 

‘^Wha saw the Lady Kilmeny riding sae gallantly in 
Golspie whan she fitter for the shroud?” faltered he. 

And half a score swore to the sight. 

An’ a bonnie, brisk May is she, as she rides with her 
gentlemen and maids straight to Strathmore Tower to 
tak’it!” 

Then the old man turned him round about, and his face 
was cold and white. 

^MVoe worth the day!” muttered Laird Tyndale, with 
shaking hands. The doom has come on StrcUhmore!” 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE HISTORY OF GLEHCORA. 

The citizens of Golspie town remembered long the notable 
events of that day. The aid of internal miracles seemed 
called in to intensify its significance. The oldest witch-wo- 
man in all broad Sutherland was found dead in her bed, 
and Strathmore, that portentous September day, lost its re- 
vered spey-wife.” Horse-shoes mysteriously disappeared 
from over hut doors, black cats were marvelously rife, and 
fairy-rings were given as emeralds on the grass. All nature 
hummed a trembling mystery, and the sun glowed fierily 
from behind a gray shroud. 

It was not enchantment in the air, and that day did not 
the spell which cursed the house of Strathmore become a 
verity? The Lowland steamer was hissing noisily at the 
dock, and unburdening itself of a goodly throng of passen- 
gers. There were a gentleman and two ladies, and followers 
without number. Surely a retinue or an army. 

The iwo ladies were young, and each in her way beauti- 
tiful; yet there was something very remarkable in their 
manners. While the youngest, a slight, fragile-looking girl, 
with a pale, lovely face, walked a step or two in advance, 
looking fully and intently at every window, and every peer- 
ing, curious face as she passed; the other, a tall, queenly 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


219 


looking lady, with commanding presence and flashing black 
eyes, shrank back and clung to the gentleman^s arm, with 
vail jealously drawn over her face, and she spoke in low, 
suppressed tones, which died to a whisper whenever a High- 
lander in kilt and claymore appeared on her line of vision. 

The gentleman, also tall, pale, distinguished, and quiet, 
composedly advanced with, however, a wary eye now and 
again sweeping round the streets, and a word or two of reas- 
surance to his companion. Then there was a dashing young 
man, with a gay, military air, and like a young cadet or 
artillery officer, despite his sober suit of brown, directing 
the movements of some fifty bold-looking fellows, with 
florid faces, pugnacious glances, and most peaceful attire, 
all illustrating the possiblity of wolves getting into sheep^s 
clothing to further their own ends; all marching silently 
up the winding street to the largest hotel, which they speed- 
ily overran. 

When they were quietly established at the hotel, the grand 
gentleman asked for Mrs. Mclntire, the seer of Strathmore, 
and appeared struck with consternation when he heard that 
she had that very morning been found dead in her bed; and 
ere he could make further inquiry in dashed Brown Kobin 
Strathmore. 

"'The whale kintra has gane mad,"' he exclaimed; "an" 
they a" tell me Leddy Kilmeny has been seen wa" a hundred 
ahint her coming fra" the Lowland steamer. It marm be 
her weith, and she"s deed sin" I left her in dark Strathmore 
tower, an" a" my men will no deliver her noo."" 

The obsequious landlord immediately presented the young 
hunter to the English gentleman at his side, who instantly 
conducted him to the apartments of the ladies. 

The afternoon was dim with fiery heat, and sultry with 
smothered sunshine, when four equestrians softly rode up 
the streets, and along the sea-shore road to Strathmore 
Tower. 

Eobin rode first, with the tall lady by his side, and won- 
dering cottagers lipped from door to door the rapid tidings. 

" Yon"s the Leddy Kilmeny, and young Eobin the laird's 
son." 

And an old man stacking peats beside his hut stood up, 
took off his bonnet, and cried: 

"Heaven bless bonny Leddy Kilmeny an" her bra" young 
bridegroom!" 


220 


THE BBIBE ELECT. 


Listen !” whispered the lady, with her finger on her lips. 

Am I so like?” 

So like, my lady,” quoth Bix)wn Eobin, that ye em- 
powered me wi^ astonishment when first I looked upon your 
bonnie face. If Kilmeny had your red cheeks an’ summer 
bloom, sure your laird, himsel, wad na ken which was wife !” 

And so the lady, with excitement and rising joy chasing 
away the lurking dread from her lovely features, rode on 
gallantly, with a backw^ard glance at her noble husband, 
following with the pale, attentive girl by his side. 

Thickly rolled m the fog from sullen waters to the sodden 
shore as these four equestrians dismounted behind a high 
flinty clitf, and gave their horses into the charge of a shep- 
herd lad, summond by Eobin. They silently paced the 
heated sand low down by the booming surf, where the sea- 
caves moaned an eternal monotone, and wild crags uprose 
from many a boiling caldron. 

They reached a hidden cave and entered its dark mouth. 
Four score figures rose from the circling gloom at their en- 
trance; some the English arrivals of the morning, more 
Eobin’s trusty followers; and with swift steps they all pene- 
trated a subterranean passage straight up to the beleaguered 
tower. They overran the disordered banquet-hall, the dis- 
mal chambers of state, and empty saloons, and peered deri- 
sively from the windows at Sir Tyndale and his men quar- 
reling in the court-yard, and Eobin swiftly conveyed his 
three companions up to the door of the tower chamber; and 
here he paused a brief moment, while, for the first time, the 
sweet face of the fragile girl grew white with fear, and her 
hands were clasped in momentary agitation. 

My lord,” said Eobin Strathmore, if it be as we think 
— if your lost one is indeed our Lady of Strathmore, then 
these sisters shall no more be parted for fifty scheming 
Foxes, and twice fifty blatherin’ Dooms. MysiSy open to 
the Leddy Rosecleer Tresilymiy her lord, and Miss Florice 
Calvert — all friends of our Leddy Kihneny !” 

His voice was sufficient. The massive bolt was removed 
— silently the iron door swung open on its heavy hinges, 
admitting these three, then was shut with a loud clang by 
Eobin’s hand — and now indeed these strangers met. 

Strangers? 

The Lady Kilmeny was kneeling before the painted head 
of a beautiful woman, with large brown eyes of heavenly 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


221 


sweetness, downward drooping and mystically pathetic, as 
if prophetic of coming woe to that poor soul, and in small 
illumined characters were these words: 

“ Lady Glencora, wife of Lord McGillvray Strathmore.” 

At her right side was the half-averted face of a most 
radiant girl, just blossoming into a glorious womanhood; 
and at first so startling was the likeness, yet ?^?dikeness of 
this pictured face to the half-averted face of the kneeling 
Lady Kilmeny that one might have thought some witch- 
like spell had summoned that phantom from the past to 
mock the clouded and tear-washed beauty of the living 
woman. 

She rose from her study of these pictures at the loud 
clanging of the turret-door, and turned her wan counte- 
nance, in a wild, arrested gaze, upon the prominent figure 
of the group. 

And here were two faces, the exact counterpart of each 
other, gazing at each rapt feature, with the same full, dark 
eyes, the same chiseled features and curving nostrils, the 
uncontrollable mark of kindred blood flushing over brow 
and cheek and neck of each, making for a brief moment 
the likeness absolute perfection itself. 

Then Lady Kilmeny glanced at the girlish portrait beside 
her. Excitement paled her cheek, and little Florice hid 
her eyes in horror and dismay. 

For oh! in these two shadow-faces God seemed to have 
set the seal of life in one and of death in the other. 

^^Are you my cousin breathed Eosecleer Tresilyan, in 
amazed accents. 

^^Are you my sister?” whispered the Lady of Strath- 
more. 

Glencorar shrieked Florice Calvert, clinging to Lord 
Audley^s arm. 

Kilmeny Strathmore saw, for the first time, the little 
Florice — her eyes filled with radiance— she advanced — then 
stopped amazed, and turned a thrilling glance on Eose- 
cleer's face. 

Blood is stronger than water — the blood between timis is 
stronger than love. They swooped forward, these two 
sisters, parted in the hour of their birth — they clasped hands 
and flung hungry arms around each other, and knit heart 
to heart forever in that wild embrace, Florice had wept 


222 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


and prayed and waited — Florice had toiled and faded in 
the hard world^s storms for the dear sister of her youth, and 
now, in this hour of finding, a stranger was in her arms, 
while she stood by unheeded. 

White, quiet, heart-stricken, she gazed, until Heaven 
touched her fainting soul with comfort. 

Thank Heaven!'’^ cried Florice, with blessed tears, 

Alexander is saved from a felon^s death.'’^ 

She heard that name, this poor Lady of Strathmore, and 
with a grievous shudder she leaned upon KosecleeFs shoul- 
der and looked at Florice. 

‘‘Come hither, girlie^^ she exclaimed, with a strange, 
half-crazed utterance. “ Come to Glencora, and look in 
her face, that thou mayst tell Alexander what treachery has 
done for his bride-elect, then ask him what peace his wealth 
brings him.^^ 

With a murmured endearment, her hand reached forth 
and drew the amazed girl toward her. Her mood changed, 
and, almost fiercely, she caught her in her arms; her fingers 
entwined themselves in her rippling hair, and her lips fell 
on sunny waves with smiling curves of tenderness, while 
fond words, long unused, welled from her heart. 

“Yet once, twice, thrice, I will kiss thee, sweet-eyed 
Florice, for, sorely as thou hast stabbed me, coldly as thou 
hast pierced my heart, yet of them all thou only returned to 
crazed Glencora 

“ Crazed?” murmured Rosecleer, eying her twin rose with 
darkening horror in her eyes. 

Then Lord Tresilyan approached; gently but forcibly he 
led the poor Lady of Strathmore to an ancient dais; he 
smoothed her pillow, and softly laid her down; he took her 
fluttering hands, and arrested her poor, wandering, feverish 
eyes from their bewitched searching for Rosecleer. 

“ Lady Kilmeny,'’^ he said, “your day of deliverance has 
come. Lie here, sweet heart, among your friends, and let 
us untangle this web of wrong between us. Florice is 
nearest your heart; she shall kneel by your side. Rosecleer 
is nearest you in kin; she shall hold your hands in a sister’s 
loving clasp. 1 am your brother by a dear tie. As the 
twin of my wife, the long lost one, I embrace you truly, 
fondly, and swear to restore you, in Heaven’s will, to every 
happiness.” 

He bent down and solemnly kissed her on the brow. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


223 


Large tears were rollings down her thin face. She looked 
wistfully from one to the other, raptly at the agonized face 
of Florice lying on her bosom. A sudden lurid gleam of 
diallerie lit her black eyes. 

Traitress!'^ she said, with something of her old-time 
mockery to Sir Tyndale. 

Lord Audley checked the cry of outraged grief upon the 
poor girks lips. 

‘^Hush!^^^ he adjured, with upraised finger. “ There is 
a story here to be disclosed. We must understand each 
other.'’'’ 

Mysie, with streaming eyes, and stifled sobs, drew near to 
listen. Her heart was true and warm, though she was only 
a servant, and her half-mad mistress was dearer than life to 
her. Weeping, between hope and sorrow, she laid her head 
down by Lady Kilmeny'’s feet, and, with her lips upon 
them, was comforted. 

Are you Glencora Calvert, lost from Edinburgh on the 
twenty-fiith of last July?'’^ asked Lord Tresilyan. 

I am Glencora Calvert,^^ she answered, looking in his 
face with gathering confidence. 

His was the only face of the three that she seemed to look 
upon without agitation. Audley marked this, and kept his 
electric eyes upon hers until their full power arrested and 
absorbed her. 

‘^Eelate all that has happened to you since you disap- 
peared from the house of your friends in Lady-Bank,'^ said 
Lord Tresilyan. 

Lady-Bank murmured the Lady of Strathmore, with 
a smile and a rushing tear. ‘^How sweet that sounds! — 
like a strain of a childish hymn. 'Twas within a mile of 
Edinburgh town — ah!'^ 

Little Florice, pale and patient, looked up into that 
bleached face, with a bursting heart, and wondered: 

Is this our Glencora 

Rosecleer bent grievingly down, and tears fell like dew 
upon her faded double rose. 

Audley^s cool hand crept with mesmeric influence over 
the poor bewildered brain, and coy reason revisited her 
shattered empire. 

Wait a while, Glencora,'’^ said Audley, soothingly; ^Hry 
to remember what happened after you parted from 
Alexander in the garden.'’-’ 


224 • THE BRIDE ELECT. 

am so confused!” deprecated my lady, with knitted 
brow. My head always whirls just when I want to think. 
But wait; I will try.” 

She did try to rally her energies, and after a few minutes 
began, quite connectedly, to speak. 

And this is the true history of the Bride-Elect: 

On the twenty-fifth of July^ in the evening, I walked 
down to the 'shrubbery with my betrothed husband, 
Alexander Buccleugh. While standing at the wicket gate 
we made a bet in play, and this was the bet: Whoever 
should reach the house first, by different paths, should give 
a pearl bracelet to Miss Jessie Buccleugh on my wedding- 
day. As we were about to part, my maid, J ean Malcolm, 
came running to me with my cloak and bonnet. While she 
gave them to me, she made a sign that she wished to speak 
to me; then retreated down the shrubbery walk, and waited 
in a side path. I was apprehensive that something in the 
arrangements for the morrow had been forgotten, so turned 
off and hurried after my maid. 

She beckoned to me, and I had to penetrate the cross- 
path a considerable distance to reach her. Seated upon a 
rustic seat beneath the large elm tree, I saw an old, vener- 
able-looking gentleman, who rose on the instant, bowed, 
and gave me a letter. 

“ ^ Miss Calvert, this business is urgent,^ he said. 

I tore open the envelope, and read, in a strange hand, 
a request from Captain Drummond to come to him imme- 
diately. It was signed in his own handwriting. 

This decided me. I had no fear of foul play; indeed it 
never struck me. I knew Captain Drummond would just 
rely on me in any emergency of this kind, and seek to spare 
Florice; and I determined not to spoil all by any hesitation 
or loss of time. I wrote a few words to Alexander, in my 
pocket-book, explaining my sudden departure, and request- 
ing him to break it gently to the family; clasped the pocket- 
book and gave it to Malcolm, with a charge to hasten home 
with it; walked back to the wicket gate with the gentleman, 
stepped into a carriage which had driven up as we advanced 
together, and drove into Edinburgh. 

The stranger explained, on the way, that he and the 
captain were old friends; that they had that day met, after 
a lapse of years, and had taken dinner together on board 
his yacht;, that on coming on shore, the captain had missed 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


225 


his footing and fallen heavily back upon the deck, injuring 
himself very seriously. 

‘^In half an hour we stopped, the driver got down, and 
opened the door and held out his hand to assist me from 
the carriage. He was so sinister-looking and uncouth, that 
I experienced a strange reluctance to leave the shelter of the 
cab, or to trust myself any further with them. However, I 
dismounted and looked round. We were on the Kirkaldy 
and Dysart pier, and a small yacht was moored to the end 
of it. 

In turning round to take my guardian^s note from the 
seat, I noticed the cabman and my gentleman companion 
exchanging glances. Sudden alarm seized me, and I gazed 
at them, fixedly. 

^ My dear young friend,^ said the stranger, approaching 
me, the captain is really very ill. Malcolm here — don^t 
be frightened, dear, only the father of your own maid — Mal- 
colm asked one of my men as we were coming down, and he 
said Captain Drummond was becoming speechless. Will 
you not step on board my yacht where he lies?'’ 

I looked at the note in my hand; I looked in his face, 
and determined to be satisfied. I took his hand and stepped 
on board, and was escorted immediately to the cabin. The 
captain was not there, and the gentleman, withdrawing, 
asked me to wait five minutes, and he would prepare him; 
he was lying in one of the berths. So saying, he shut the 
door, and 1 was left alone. 

The yacht was pitching heavily on the incoming tide, 
and in a few minutes the noise of rattling chains upon deck 
became so loud that a feeling of terror began to possess me. 
I approached a cabin window; the blind was nailed down. 
I listened, and heard the sound of water gushing past the 
vessel. An awful suspicion crossed my mind. I rushed to 
the door, tore it open, and fied on deck. Every sail was 
set, and the pier two hundred yards away. 

I rushed to the side of the yacht, and gazed frantically 
across, the widening space, and midway between I saw a 
sight which astonished me into silence for a time. A dog 
was bravely swimming after us, and as he gallantly breasted 
the waves, the evening sun shone on his poor wet face and 
silver collar, and I recognized ' Ossian," my greyhound, the 
last, the only faithful one of my Edinburgh friends! I 
looked at the evil face of the man called Malcolm. 


226 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


^ Save my dog/ I said, and pointed out the animal. 

He smiled sardonically, and answered nothing. 

Where is the person who took me here?^ I cried, 
stamping my foot. ‘ I demand instant liberty. Set me on 
shore. ^ 

As I said that, I saw the Dysart steamboat crossing the 
Frith. If it was a device about my guardian’s accident, he 
should he aboard the steamer. I weighed rapidly in my 
mind the chances of shrieking as we passed each other, or 
of plunging overboard full in view of those on board. I de- 
cided on the last, and quietly crossed the deck to be on the 
proper side. 

To my chagrin, I suddenly became aware of the man 
Malcolm standing at my back. I turned round and took 
out my purse. 

^ I shall pay you handsomely,’ I said, ^ if you rescue my 
dog, and land him either on the shore or on this deck. 
How much will you take to go?’ 

^ More than you’re worth, fair lady,’ he answered, grin- 
ning. ^ Ho, no — you can’t stand here to signal yon 
steamer.’ 

At that the wretch caught me in his arms. I shrieked 
with all my strength and strained my eyes. Oh, it was 
cruel! I could distinctly see my guardian walking arm and 
arm with another gentleman up and down the steamer deck. 
In despair I found the wind against me, and my cry could 
not be heard. Before I could repeat it a heavy cloak was 
flung over my head. I was lifted from my feet, and in an- 
guish and indignation I fainted. 

I recovered with a sensation of deadly suffocation. The 
air was close and sultry, the smell of ship’s tar and ropes 
sickening, and for some time I was quite bewildered. At 
last I remembered, and tried to spring from the narrow 
berth in which I was lying; faint and dying I fell back, 
then my eyes rested on a glass of wine by my side. I 
seized it and drank it all, determined to give myself strength 
for one desperate effort at liberty. The wine was drugged, 
and I fell immediately into a deep sleep. 

“ My next conscious sensation was of a heavy, burning 
head, and a loud rushing of water all around. I supported 
myself on my arm, and looked about. The gray, cold day 
was streaming in blankly through white sheets nailed over 
every window. My berth looked out on a very sumptuously 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


227 


furnished state-room, which I had never seen before; and 
emblazoned at one end above the door I saw what appeared 
to be the arms of some noble house. The empty wine-glass 
had fallen from the small stationary table at my side, and 
was rolling about with every lurch of the vessel, over the 
thick, luxurious carpet. I looked for a long time at this 
pretty, sparkling wineglass, with curiosity and pleasure, as 
it glided hither and thither, then with a swoop came the 
thought: 

This is my wedding-day!’ And with aery of great 
despair, I hid my face in the silken pillow and wept. My 
last girlish tears were shed then. I mourned for Alexander 
and my loved ones with wild, unreasoning woe. Then 
I rose, made my toilet, composed myself, and waited. I 
was determined to sell my liberty dearly, and I made my 
many wild plans to frustrate my enemies’ conspiracy. 

In the first place I gathered together all my little treas- 
ures to calculate their value, hoping that the atrocious Mal- 
colm, if my only keeper on board, might be bought off. I 
had fifteen sovereigns in my purse, and my watch and chain 
together might bring twenty-five pounds. That was noth- 
ing. But would he be bribed by forty pounds? With a 
pang I took Alexander’s engagement-ring from my finger, 
and gazed at it wistfully. Could I sacrifice it? But the 
value? There was a very fine diamond with six rubies, and 
a marvelously rare setting. The ring could easily command 
fifty pounds. 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE DOOM OF THE DOUBLE EOSES. 

I set my treasures upon the table, and gazed at my little 
heap with a throbbing heart. Surely that would buy him ! 
But if bribery failed — ah, I was young in spirit then, and 
my will was wild' and fierce — visions of suicide or of reck- 
less vengeance filled my brain. Yes, I would risk all, even 
to my life, to balk them. But this ninety pounds and fif- 
teen shillings — surely that would do something. I calmed 
myself, and regarded the heap on the table with a favorable 
eye. 

A bolt grated in the locked door; with a gasp I looked 


228 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


up, and confronted the venerable-looking gentleman who 
had betrayed me into this prison, and as I read his haughty 
features, and cold gray eyes, my hopes of bribery fell dead 
in my bosom. 

He gazed at me gravely, and, as it seemed to me, pity- 
ingly, then approached, saying that he was my only friend 
on earth, and that I must trust him, at which he held out 
both hands to me. But I rose, and haughtily returned his 
gaze. 

How dare you abduct a lady against her will, and steal 
her from her friends? I demand an explanation, sir!"’ I 
cried. 

He glanced at the gold and money upon the table with 
a commisserating smile. 

^^^Put back your little treasures, poor child,^ he cried; 
‘ then listen to my explanation, and ask yourself what bribery 
could do.^ 

He seated himself upon the sofa beside me, and forcibly 
possessed himself of my hand, which he held all the time he 
was speaking. 

Hn the first place,^ he began, ‘1 have not stolen you 
from your family. You have been given to me cheerfully 
by them all, an assertion which I can uphold with incontro- 
vertible proofs.' 

^By Mr. Buccleugh, too?^ I asked, with an incredulous 
smile. 

He sighed heavily, and averted his face at that. 

Alas, dear child,^ he said, ^ you know well how advan- 
tageous it would be to your lover to lose sight of you, and 
marry his cousin. Put not your trust in men; he has suc- 
cumbed under the infiuence of temptation, and betrayed you 
into my hands. ^ 

“With an angry cry I refused to listen to him. I covered 
my face with my hands to hide the agony his words caused 
me. I could not, and would not believe it; yet dark horror 
filled my soul. Home, love, honor, and happiness seemed 
drifting away forever, and a secret whisper was in my heart, 
^ What if that ivere true f 

“‘'No more,' I cried, ^no more! By Heaven above, I 
.will not mistrust my loveP 

“ He sighed again, and this time a tear trickled down his 
face. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


229 


' Your sorrow is agony to me/ he said, pathetically, 
^for you are mine — bound to me by the close tie of blood/ 

^ Explain,^ I ejaculated, turning upon him fiercely. 

‘ I am your uncle, ^ he resumed, in the gentlest of voices, 
^and in your face, haughty and impetuous girl, I behold 
the noblest and best attributes of our house. The Seer of 
Strathmore is right, and I clasp to this aged heart the long 
hidden Flower of Promise, who will stem back ruin and 
shame from her people.^ 

‘^So saying, he clasped me in his arms, and with a 
subtle thrill of awe I submitted for a moment, with my will 
lying passive at his feet. 

^ You have always believed,^ continued he, presently, 
^ that you were the child of Howard and Lucy Calvert, and 
that you were born on the Pacific Ocean, during their pas- 
sage to India. This is your true history: 

You are a daughter of the second brother of Strath- 
more, of most noble parentage, and, owing to circumstances, 
the present heiress of Strathmore. There were three broth- 
ers to their house. Lord McGillvray, the eldest; Captain 
William, the second, of whom you are a daughter; and Sir 
Tyndale, the third. I am Sir Tyndale, your uncle. Do you 
still believe me an imposter?^ 

Go on,’ I said, chill and faint. 

^^He then told me that, owing to a feud in the house, I 
had been concealed at my birth, and as my mother had died 
then, I was conveyed by a daughter of the Seer of Strath- 
more to Edinburgh, offered to Dr. Howard Calvert and 
his wife, just going abroad, adopted by them, and secretly 
taken with my nurse to India. My true history was known 
to them, and there was an understanding that whenever 
my house should claim me, I, with my Highland nurse, 
should leave the family of my foster-parents, and return to 
Strathmore. 

Here I broke in with bitter triumph. 

‘But you can’t prove that I am that infant who was 
sent away. I shall contest that point in a court of law.’ 

“ ‘ Glencora,’ said the old man solemnly, ‘ do not catch at 
straws. Nourice Mclntire, the Strathmore Seer, assisted at 
your birth. She laid you in the arms of Mrs. Elsie Mal- 
colm, your nurse. She, obedient to the stern Strathmore 
laws, left her Highland house, husband, and daughter, to 
accompany you abroad to a safe haven, where your life 


230 


THE BBIDE ELECT. 


might not be sacrificed. Her husband, also strictly obedi- 
ent to its mandates, came down to Edinburgh with his 
daughter, trained her in lowland manners, and Strathmore 
allegiance, and when you came back to live in Edinburgh, 
at the death of the Calverts, she went as your maid. Her 
mother died three years after her return from India. On 
her death-bed she solemnly took Jean^s oath that your inter- 
ests and welfare should be watched over, and that whenever 
your house demanded you, she should see that you were de- 
livered to them. Under that vow she went to you as your 
maid.'’ 

"" "What — Jean Malcolm a traitress?’ I gasped. 

"" " Not a traitress, my child,’ he said, "only true to the in- 
terests of Strathmore. But you still disbelieve your own 
identity. When you were taken from your dying mother, 
the wife of AVilliam Strathmore, the Seer branded your arm 
with magic arts, that indelibly it should bear the crest of 
Strathmore; and furthermore, you were named Glencora, 
after the prevailing ladies of our house. Glencora Calvert 
have you no mark upon your left arm?’ 

"" Trembling and silent, I loosed the fastenings of my 
sleeve, and drew it up to look at a small, blood-red mark on 
the inside of my arm, which I had always regarded as a 
mole. He went to a locker, produced a microscope, and 
held it over it. " Look,’ he said. I beheld witli amazement 
a distinctly marked griffith, with a chain in its mouth, 
traced most delicately in scarlet. Instinctively, my eyes 
fastened upon the emblazoned crest above the door — ^they 
were the same. 

"" " Glencora,’ resumed Sir Tyndale, impressively, "I have 
never beheld you before this day, yet by these signs said to 
be found on the heir of Strathmore, I claim you. You 
have our crest on your arm — you bear our noblest name — 
your face proclaims your lineage. In the sacred interests 
of the house of Strathmore, I claim you as the rightful heir.’ 

"" I listened resistlessly. 

"" Go on,’ I implored, " tell me, though I may belong to 
your house, by what right you snatch me from my betrothed 
husband ?’ 

"" He bent down and touched my hands with his lips, then 
went on: 

"" " It is very painful to tear a fond heart from the sup- 
port to which it has clung, but when that support become^ 


TSS BBIDB ELECT. 


231 


untrustworthy, it is a merciful act of justice to save the too 
trusting soul from future misery. My child, your betrothed 
and Captain Drummond have given you up to me, and 
have recognized my rights to demand you. With his own 
hands, Alexander Buccleugh signed the agreement, and at 
a given time, took you down to the shrubbery gate of Lady- 
Bank, where I was waiting. Captain Drummond signed 
the note causing you to accompany me, thinking it most 
merciful to send you away without a formal leave-taking of 
your friends; your foster-sister and the captain^s sister also 
recognized the expediency of concealing their knowledge of 
your approaching separation, and though reluctantly, suf- 
fered you to go in this manner.^ 

He ceased, and from an escritoire he took some papers, 
and presently handed me a private letter from Alexander to 
himself. 

‘^^It was true! I had been bartered foully, and for a lib- 
eral compensation, as I could gather from the purport of the 
letter which appeared to have been written four days before. 
White and speechless with humiliation, I returned the 
note. 

^ Are you satisfied?^ he asked. 

^ If I am a daughter of Strathmore, then what is my 
lot?^ I asked. 

Then he seated me again, and told me the story of Lady 
Kosecleer’s treachery to the house, and the prophecy con- 
nected with her marrying across the border. And that I, 
the next of kin, to save her life, and maintain the ancient 
glory of the house, had been taken from my concealment, 
and would enter the lands as Lady Kilmeny Strathmore, 
concealing for a time my real name of Lady Glencora, to 
satisfy some secret interests of the house. I was to be 
named Kilmeny after a distant cousin living in Aberdeen, 
who had died a few days ago, and whose identity I was to 
assume. 

It took a long, fierce struggle to bend me to Sir Tyn- 
dale^s plotting. At last, on the third day, lying faint and 
overcome in my berth, I gave Sir Tyndale the promise, 
to save my Cousin Eosecleer from assassination, by entering 
her property as Lady Kilmeny, the Strathmore May, who 
was to avert ruin from the clan. I entered upon my life of 
state. 

I found falseness and treachery rife in every movement 


23 ^ 


THE BBIDE elect. 


around me. I was jailed within my tower. I was watched, 
and wheedled, and directed. Every day I chafed under the 
suspicion that my position was a dishonorable one. I 
longed to throw off my seeming, and declare my name; but 
my uncle proved to me that the aged Seer of Strathmore 
would be sacrificed immediately by the half-savage clan, 
for concealing me at my birth, and he also might be de- 
stroyed. I saw that I must be silent. I wished to come to 
some amicable agreement with Lady Kosecleer, but was per- 
petually threatened with ^ the Doom,^ if ever friendly inter- 
course passed between us. My life was hampered, my will 
crippled, my every wish thwarted. 

‘^At last, finding that mistrust and falseness were the 
principal points of my under’s character, I began to ques- 
tion more and more the cruelty of my still beloved family, 
and the treachery of Alexander, and determined to use Sir 
Tyndale^s own weapon of deceit. 

I wrote a letter to Florice, imploring one word to assure 
me of their love; one little visit of my guardian, that I 
might be at peace with them all. 

When that letter went, I was wildly happy for a while. 
I fed my soul with brilliant hopes, and waited for the Low- 
land steamer, which would bring my friend, honest and 
true, to me. The day came at last. 

Alas! my hopes were vain; instead of a friend, I got a 
letter from Captain Drummond. It told me to be content; 
that it was better as it was; that he and Florice might come 
up to the Highlands in about a year, on their wedding 
tour, and then they might pay me a flying visit; but, at 
present, he dared not meddle with me, else my House would 
take umbrage. 

Then there was a postscript from little Florice, soul of 
my soul, the core of my heart, whom I still mourned incon- 
solably. She wrote in the highest spirits. She was elated 
by my good fortune. Then told me casually that Alex- 
ander was doing the best thing — marrying Jessie Buccleugh, 
and building a grand house at Denburn, on the site of the 
old. The union was to take place the same day on which I 
received the letter, and inclosed was a scrap of Miss Buc- 
cleugh^s wedding silk. 

^^Thus replied my stanch friends to my comfortless 
heart-cries. Then I saw revealed the hollowness of worldly 
love. Love was lost to me forever, but duty remained. I 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


233 


would be loyal to my falling House, and save it from the 
doom of dissolution. 

^‘^My path was clear enough for me to follow, and I 
would have sacrificed my life to duty. But Sir Tyndale 
urged upon me that which my soul loathed. I must marry 
a scion of Strathmore, and my position would be declared, 
and the House saved from the doom of extinction. 

After Gavin, under Sir Tyndale^s moral lash, had de- 
manded my hand and been rejected, I stole out with my 
faithful maid to the hut of Hourice Mclntire, determined to 
understand my true position. My brain was busy with 
some strange speculations, and Laird Tyndale could not or 
would not explain them. Her life was in my hand, and I 
threatened to throw it away if she would not reveal that 
which had been hidden from me. She saw by my crazed 
eyes that I meant it — she knew by my skeleton face what 
a vailed existence had done for me — and, with many a spell 
and incantation, she told me the true history of my life; 
and this is the tale of the Seer of Strathmore: 

Glencora and Eosecleer were born in one hour by Lady 
Glencora, wife of Lord McGillvray Strathmore, the chief of 
the House. Double roses thus blooming on one tree, ruin 
was sure, according to prophecy, unless one of the roses 
were severed from the tree and either destroyed or grafted 
on to alien branches. 

'‘^Nourice Mclntire, at our birth, chose me, and instead 
of destroying me secretly, preserved my life that I might 
rule the life of my younger twin should she betray the 
House, or take her place should she die. 

Lady Glencora Strathmore, our mother — the sweet, the 
beautiful, and true — the ^Flower of Sutherland,'’ having 
violated one of Strathmore’s savage laws, by bearing 
^double roses,’ died on her maternal bed of a ^subtle 
Doom,’ the seer said — of a secret poison, more likely, 
administered by a hand neither cruel nor murderous, but 
rendered vengeful by ignorant superstition, and wild ter- 
rors of coming destruction to the House, should this inno- 
cent traitress live. 

So the Lady of Strathmore paid for our life with 
hers, and Lord McGillvray, all unconscious of the secret 
tragedy, mourned a pure and noble lady to the day of his 
death. 

Eosecleer, the younger, reigned in the gloomy tower 


234 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


of her father; Glencora, the elder, remained concealed — 
a nonentity to her house — an enigma to her foster-parents — 
a waif in the hand of God. 

Eosecleer, also, in course of time, violated Strathmore 
laws by forsaking her people and marrying an English 
noble. Now came Sir Tyndale^s dynasty. IT tterly ignorant 
of the existence of Glencora, the concealed heiress, he de- 
termined to punish Lady Eosecleer Tresilyan by fetching 
her Cousin Kilmeny, the daughter of William Strathmore, 
from Aberdeen to usurp the title and lands. 

Proclaiming this intention to his clan, he departed from 
Strathmore on the tenth day of July, and traveled down to 
Aberdeen. Three days after, Nourice Mclntire was told of 
this expedition, and with wild and muttered malisons she 
wrapped her in her plaid, took her staff, and set out for 
Forres to meet the coming heiress before she should touch 
Strathmore ground. 

On the 15th of July, Sir Tyndale and Kilmeny Strath- 
more reached Forrestown on their upward journey. The 
seer sent for Sir Tyndale, told him of the veritable heiress, 
bade him send back Kilmeny, and put the eldest daughter of 
the house at its head. 

^ Awe-struck and impressed, the laird then went back to 
his luckless Lady Kilmeny. He told her the whole truth. 

Kilmeny had a proud, furious spirit. She had scorn- 
fully thrown off all former ties, when brilliant promises 
were made her, and now she could not return. Her wild, 
unconquered heart rose high in rebellion, and swept reason 
forever from her brain. The Fox of Strathmore spent 
that night in the Forest Hotel with a maniac. With many 
a wily art he concocted a scheme by which to turn this 
catastrophe to his own advantage, and to render it more 
fortunate than otherwise. He concealed her fate from those 
friends she had forever parted from; bore her as his daugh- 
ter down to France, found a private asylum near Paris, and 
left his hapless charge under a false name, to be supported 
yearly by a liberal allowance. Before Sir Tyndale 
had left Paris for Britain, his first year’s payment was re- 
turned to him, and a note informed him that his daughter 
had died in convulsions twenty-four hours after her en- 
trance. Thus fell the second victim to Strathmore’s super- 
stitions. 

Then Sir Tyndale arrived at Edinburgh on the 22nd 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


m 

of July, watched, and leagued with Malcolm. Letters 
were forged by my clever uncle, having been assisted by 
Jean Malcolm, and on the 25th the hapless bride-elect was 
borne from my loved one^s arms. I was made to bear the 
dead Kilmeny’s name, and I took up her life where she had 
laid it down, and dragged it on well nigh to the asylum and 
the grave, as she had done before me. 

All this the Seer of Strathmore told me two nights ago, 
while the storm rocked her cot and the lightning revealed 
her prophetic face. She knelt at my feet as the gray dawn 
crept in, and cried with thrilling vehemence: 

‘‘‘Lady of Strathmore, IVe seen a hundred years of 
Strathmore’s weals and woes. I have sinned for my 
house, and toiled and schemed. But now, my lady, mar- 
row of the English Rose, firstling of the Flower of Suther- 
land, savior of your father’s clan, heed my words. As my 
shadow falls long upon my grave. Heaven’s hand is opened 
to my eyes, and I see its purpose to you. Tread not in the 
ways of sin and cruelty to serve your house, my lady. 
Bleached is your beauty and dimmed your luster among 
your father’s hinds, my lady, for your heart is not with 
them. Take these golden gifts from the mouth of the Seer 
of Strathmore.’ 

“ She rose, crossed my hands upon my bosom, and rested 
her hands upon my bowed head. 

“ ‘ Never wed but where you love,’ she muttered. ‘ Avert 
destruction by Heaven’s pointing! Wait for God’s pleasure! 
Now, my lady, go home, for the day will soon be born 
which is the day of Strathmore’s Doom.’ 

“ Lord Tresilyan, I have finished the story.” 

And so was ended the strife and bewilderment of that 
long search. 

Lord Audley was the first to speak, and he spoke with 
fire: 

“Now, Heaven be praised, Glencora! an innocent man 
will get his due — a noble man will escape destruction. Dear 
girl, condemn Alexander Buccleugh no more. He has suf- 
fered much for you.” 

' Glencora’s two hands quivered in Rosecleer’s triumphant 
clasp; her sweet eyes rained eager questioning on my 
lord’s forcibly restrained countenance; her heart beat wildly 
under the wet cheek of patient Florice. 

“ Oh, tell me quickly, Lord Tresilyan!” cried she, in a 


^36 


TBE -BRIDE ELECT. 


faint voice, was I not deserted by my betrothed, and sold 
by Captain Drummond? FloriceT^ ejaculated Glencora, 
wildly, were you all true to me at Lady-Bank?” 

And Florice^s smile was rare to see. 

We were true, Glencora,” she replied, simply. 

Then Glencora broke from my lord and her sister, and 
she lifted the faithful darling of her childhood from hum- 
ble kneeling, and laid her in her bosom. 

^‘^Florice! — Florice!- — Florice!” moaned Glencora, ^^was 
Alexander true?” 

^^Ah! yes, dearest Sister Glencora, he was true as heaven! 
He never loved another, and has searched many a day for 
his lost love. And now he lies in prison, threatened with 
a felon's doom, which your appearance only will avert from 
him. Oh, it’s a long story, Glencora, darling.” 

Tell me all, my own old friend!” murmured Glencora, 
with sweet tears oozing from her long silken lashes. 

Then they told her all that is contained in this book, 
traces, suspicions, and defects, on the black day when 
Alexander was arrested beside the nameless corpse; and 
though she moved not, nor spoke, her care-worn face was 
glowing in its ineffable peace. Best at last — hope at last — 
joy at last for my lady. Terrors and treachery vanquished 
for aye. Love once more the lord of all. 

And thus I am to meet my love, ruined in youth^s prime, 
bankrupt in heart, chased to the depths of infamy and 
suspicion by misguided justice! And what salve has heaven 
to offer for all his anguish and affliction! A half-crazy bride 
who shall greet her spirit-wrecked betrothed like a specter 
of her former self ! Oh, my true-hearted Alexander! 
Heaven judge me for the wrong I did thee! Heaven re- 
member those who made inquisition after thy blood ! And 
yet — ah, sweet Heaven! I thank thee, for he loves me! he 
loves me!” 

Lord Tresilyan stepped to the door of the turret cham- 
ber, opened it, and clasped the hand of Robin Strathmore. 

He needed not to speak, for Robin knew all. He turned 
him from that sight in the tower chamber, and spoke to his 
stout men in the hall: 

^^Down, lads!” he shouted, in a clarion voice. Declare 
in the court the Doom of Strathmore! The Double Roses 
have met. Lady Rosecleer and Glencora, the twin daugh- 
ters of Lady McGillvray Strathmore, clasp hands in their 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 237 

own high tower, and embrace like sisters true, and the 
warlock falls to the ground; the spell is broken. This day 
superstition dies in Strathmore House, and the clan shall be 
ruled as the ladies like, without leave of Laird Tyndale. 
Lady Kilmeny dies, not in deed, but in name, and the true 
Lady Glencora rises in her place, to wed whom she pleases, 
and share the lands as she lists. And I, Eobin Strathmore, 
swear to be her defender through thick and thin, till she 
rules in peace and safety over Strathmore. Lads, who will 
follow me?^^ 

And a cheer, loud, clamorous, and fervent, followed this 
little speech, and Eobin, already springing down the wind- 
ing stone stairs, was pursued pell-mell by his men, with his 
hue and cry most appalling to alien ears. 

Down through the empty castle, still held in sturdy 
possession by two men at the audience-chamber door, into 
the hall, where patiently lurked two sharp lawyers, authority 
in hand, and civil power at their elbow, and tearing up the 
trap-door, up poured Eobin^s men from the secret stair-way, 
and crowded, fully forty strong, around their yellow-haired 
darling. 

And Laird Tyndale, standing firmly in the midst of the 
swaying mass, with folded arms, and bitter resignation, 
looked around on the panic with the face of a foiled demon. 

The brawl being thus comfortably concluded, up stepped 
the Edinburgh lawyers, writ in hand, constables in the rear. 

Sir Tyndale Strathmore, you must answer to the charge 
of forcibly abducting, unlawfully imprisoning, and fraud- 
ulently concealing the person of Glencora Calvert, otherwise 
known as Lady Glencora Strathmore. Sir, come with us 
quietly. 

Laird Tyndale turned him in the crowd, ' savage as any 
wolf. 

Yefil no hold a Strathmore wi’ yer lawyer bonds hissed 
he, spitefully. Stand back, or tak" the length o' my guid 
Highland dirk i' yer bantam's hearts!" 

And Brown Eobin turned him also in the crowd, and a 
tear blinded his eye. 

He sprang forward, a leal and filial heart, to save the old 
man from harm; but Laird Tyndale cursed him furiously, 
and threatened him with upraised dirk, till Lord Tresilyan 
forcibly detaining poor Eobin, the police officers fell on the 
ancient chief, wrenched the weapon from him, and led him 


238 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


to their carriage, which was now standing revealed outside 
the gate. 

Thus the Fox of Strathmore made his exit from the 
Tower he long had made a prison, his best scheme a failure, 
his last plan checkmated, and thus agreeably attended, he 
was driven to the town and lodged in Golspie jail. There, 
also, were snugly ensconced some half a dozen ringleaders 
from among his followers. Black Balfore and . Surly Wed- 
derburn at their head, for the lives of the unfortunates slain 
in the fray. 

And thus was the long-expected Doom accomplished on 
the day when the Double Roses met. This last remnant of 
clannish dynasty was suppressed, its prophecies proved but 
fables, its superstitions routed, its witch a corpse, its twins 
alive and well, its chief in the county jail, its people under 
civil law, its tower protected by the crown, its May to 
marry whom she pleased. 

All rent from head to heel, disrupted, dissolved; this was 
The Boom of the Double Roses ! 

And so prosaic law conquered romantic superstition. 

Farewell, my sad cage!^^ breathed Glencora, with a 
glimmering tear. The bird is ^ 



grim bars. When next I come 


will no more be weeping Strathmore May.^^ 

And so she went her wa}^ with friends and kindred, to 
meet her lover, never more to part, and the tower was ten- 
antless again. 

That night they left Golspie, a goodly throng, en route 
for Edinburgh. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

GLEi^CORA COMES BACK FROM HER ^^STEP WITH ALEX- 
ANDER.” 

Alexander Buccleugh lay on a poor pallet, a slumbering 
prisoner, and dreamt of the Fates that were so closely be- 
setting him, of the luckless woman in her quiet grave, of 
the avenging scaffold, looming now so near, and his afflic- 
tion crushed him in his sleep as it dared not crush him in 
his waking hours. It tore his heart with a sharp sense of 
wrong and despair, and he moaned aloud beneath the ruth- 
less reality of his dream. 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


239 


And as he moaned, a breath, faint as a zephyr, swept 
across his lips — a sweet influence mingled with his woe, 
and absorbed all its bitterness, and, as once before, Alex- 
ander awoke, and raised his eyes to his disturber. 

lie gasps for life — his dimming eyes try to see her and to 
keep seeing her; but, ah! poor wasted soul! his strength is 
gone; he sinks back fainting in Glencora^s arms. 

And she clasps him close to her noble heart, and she 
brings him back to life, sweet, perfect life again, with tears 
and kisses on his beloved face. 

Yes, the long lost Bride-Elect has at last come back from 
her run through the Shrubbery Park, and thus they meet, 
these old-time lovers, heart to heart, caring little should 
they never breathe again, since kindly Providence has thus 
swept them into each othePs arms. 

^^Ah, my Glencora! mj proud empress of yoreV’ sighed 
Alexander, his arms clasping her fragile waist. ^^Your 
dimmed luster is dearer to me than all your beauty in your 
grandest days! And was this for me? So wasted, and so 
wan! Oh, love! love!"*^ 

With moist eyes he watched that worn face, whose 
wrecked magniflcence but made its loveliness more touch- 
ing, whose vanished roundness and youthful carelessness but 
left a more angelic purity instead; but she, stooping, laid 
her happy head in his bosom. 

Grieve no more, Alexander! We are safe in Heaven’s 
good time, and in His sweetest haven! Safe and together! 
Oh, my own love, whom I believed false to me, how 
shall I reward you for all these days of suffering, while I 
slowly maddened my poor brain in Strathmore?” 

A iow tap at the door admonished them of an outer world, 
and presently the bolts were withdrawn, the door flew 
wide open, and the faithful friends pressed across the 
threshold to join in the rejoicing of these poor hearts. 

Then came the governor of the prison, and a magistrate, 
and some lawyers, and Mr. Hazeldean, and Mr. Spires, and 
with gratulations and apologies they made the prisoner a 
free man, and let him go. 

^ 4: ^ sit * * 

But one thing more and this warped history is done. 

One day the ladies of the little family were all together 
in the sunny parlor. They were all idle for once, and lux- 


240 


TEE BRIDE ELECT. 


uriating in tlie sweetest of thouglits, inasmuch as each heart 
was only busy with sympathy or affection. And while the 
pleasant spell was on them, a cab drove slowly up through 
the dun-leaved avenue, and drawing up before the door, a 
little, lithe, dry-faced man, in rusty black, wriggled out, 
carefully gathered from the seat his [stick, black bag, and 
note-book, and thoughtfully walked up the steps to Lady- 
Bank. 

Lady Tresilyan glanced out with a ray of surprised plea- 
sure on her face, and Florice sprang to the- door to- inter- 
cept the servant who was telling the visitor that Captain 
Drummond had gone over to Denburn to view the improve- 
ments with Mr. Buccleugh and some gentlemen. 

•■‘Dear Mr. Curtiss, is this you safe home again cried 
Florice, with the sweetest welcome in the world. “ Come 
in, sir, immediately; there is good news to tell you, whatever 
yours may be!” 

“ IVe heard. Miss Florice,” observed the detective, glow- 
ing; “ Fve just come from Mr. Hazeldean, the lawyer; he 
told me.” 

She led him to the parlor, and he looked around the 
eloquent group, on happy eyes he had last seen heavy with 
woe, on twin ladies reflecting naught by loving content, and 
the ugly little man grew handsome in his delight. 

•“ This is a blithesome sight,” said Mr. Curtiss, softly; 
then turning with naivete to Glencora, “ So youTe found, 
miss, are you? Wefll keep a secure hold of you this time; 
nobody shall spirit you away again. Y on see I^m Curtiss, 
your — Mr. BuccleuglFs colleague, you know; we hunted 
together for you.” 

Glencora rose hastily from the music stool, and swooping 
forward with a little cry of pleasure, and dainty hands out- 
stretched, caught the detective's arm, crying joyfully. 

“Ah, you are that dear man who stuck by Alexander 
when all your comrades condemned him, and , devoted your- 
self to the search for Moray Hazeldean that you might save 
my poor innocent friend! I have heard it all, Mr. Curtiss, 
and welcome you as a friend and deliverer, and I give you 
my deepest gratitude for all you have done for me and my 
betrothed.” 

“Ho wonder if they mourned for you and toiled but to 
hear of you!” muttered Mr. Curtiss. “Fd walk on my 
knees from Edinburgh to London to prove you a live lady 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


241 


and a true, if it were needed; but thank Providence it isn’t. 
Send for the gentlemen. Miss Florice, and then Fll give in 
the end of the Hazeldean story.” 

He laid his little black bag on the table, and subsided into 
the chair one of the many friends hastened to hand him, 
and in modest silence resumed his look of gravity and care. 

Florice accordingly dispatched a messenger to Denburn, 
and presently appeared the four friends who have so long 
linked themselves with the interest of this tale, Captain 
Drummond, Lord Tresilyan, Harold Russel, and Alexander, 
all hurried in to hear that other tale, whose only connect- 
ing link with the fortunes of the Bride Elect had been the 
tongue of the eavesdropping groom at Buckle’s stables. 

Alexander met his good little champion with a close clasp 
of the hand, and in emotion so deep that, for the moment, 
both were silent; but the jubilant captain and radiant 
Harold fully compensated, by the warmth of their remarks, 
for Alexander’s neglect; while the stately Tresilyan curved 
approving lip, and shook hands, well pleased, with plebeian 
Simon Curtiss. 

Bravo, my dear fellow!” cried Harold, admiringly. 

So you’ve run down the game, have you?” 

Mr. Curtiss laughed, and took snuff, and composed his 
features to due solemnity. Gentlemen,” he said, in a 
low voice, it’s a serious story, and you’ll be sorry when 
you hear it, though, thank God! it doesn’t affect any 
here.” 

He paused, fumbled in his pocket, took out his inevitable 
note-book, ran his eye down its cramped memoranda, and 
selected the order of his disclosures. In |.rofound silence, 
lord, ladies, and commoners clustered around that brave 
heart, which had so nobly done its mission; and thus he 
told the mystery of ^^G. C.” 

‘^From a word dropped by Mr. Philip Hazeldean,” said 
Mr. Curtis, looking up, gathered that his brother, Mr. 
Moray, had passed the months from last October to 
April in Venice; and recalling to my mind some words 
said to have been used by him in Buckle’s stable-yard — 
that he believed the lady had flown from Great Britain, and 
that he knew where to And her — I put this and that together 
and took my first flight to Venice, in search of Mr. Moray; 
and there I learned that, on the 28th of July, Mr. Moray 
arrived at the Santa Petronilh Hotel, without a servant or 


242 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


companion, and with only a valise. He arrived late, and 
slept there that night, going out on business next morning 
in a boat, with one gondolier rowing. In five hours Mr. 
Moray came back in great agitation, and ordered the hotel- 
keeper to find him a trusty courier, as he was going north, 
and might cross the Alps. 

A Venetian, who had traveled much, by the name of 
Andrea Nicolo, was the man appointed; and, when I 
arrived in pursuit, he was still absent. My first move 
was to find the gondolier who had taken Mr. Moray on his 
morning^s excursion. So, with a hotel servant who 
had seen him, I searched Venice until we identified 
him; and I extracted a good deal from him. Mr. Moray 
had gone straight through the city to a poorer quarter, 
where were built many obscure, though genteel, boarding- 
houses. Stopping at one of these, kept by a Signora Oar- 
lotta Marco, Mr. Moray got out of the gondola, and knock- 
ing eagerly, a young girl opened the door. He inquired if 
her mistress had returned from abroad yet, and if she had 
accompanied her. After some delay, the maid appeared to 
recognize him as the ^ British artist,"* and hastily assured 
him that Signora Carlotta had certainly not returned, nor 
had she written to say she was returning. They spoke a 
while longer, apparently with no more satisfaction, and 
presently Mr. Moray ran back to the gondola with a white 
face, which he bowed down and covered with both his 
hands, as if in deep affliction. As they crossed a broad 
lagoon, Mr. Moray^s boatman, looking behind, saw a cov- 
ered gondola following at a distance. Mr. Moray did not 
see it. As they approached the hotel, it made up with 
them, and shot past; and the gondolier, looking fixedly at 
the window, caught the eye of a dark,, fierce face, which 
was regarding the bowed form of the Scotchman with an 
irrepressible sneer. Then Mr. Moray went into the hotel, 
and dismissed the boatman. 

Simon Curtiss, parted with the hotel servant, and, 
with Mr. Moray^s gondolier to identify him, I set out in search 
of the owner of the evil face who had scorningly watched 
Mr. Moray^’s distress, and hovered after him across the 
whole city. He interested me. I have been on the hunt 
ever since. 

“Four days ago, I saw a man sljulking through the 
streets of a Swiss hamlet, his cloak huddled around him, 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


243 


his hat slouched over his evil eyes — a desperate-looking 
wretch. My ^gondolier walked up to him, looked hard in 
his face, and then he nodded to me. I went up to him, 
and, putting my hands quickly on his shoulders, made him 
face me. 

^ Fve wanted you for fourteen days,^ I said, in my best 
Venetian. ^ You are the man who murdered his betrothed 
wife in Edinburgh.^ 

You should have seen that evil face then! It just 
whitened down to the color of that piece of paper; his jaw 
fell, and his eyes glared hopelessly down at me. Such a 
picture of an accusing coTicience may I never see again. 

I had two constables with me, and they took him on the 
spot. And the first magistrate we took him to stared aghast 
at him, and smiled grimly. 

You are Paolo Anzoleto, the Roman insurgent, traitor 
and brigand,^ says he. ^ For two years the State has wanted 
you." 

And no sooner was he safely caged, and his name made 
public, then in rushed Mr. Moray"s courier, Nicolo, from 
secretly searching the country. 

^ You are the murderer of Mr. Moray Hazeldean, the 
Scotch traveler," says Nicolo. ^For thr^e months I have 
wanted you." 

And, when he saw the game was up, he threw up his 
hands, and made a clean breast of it. I have got his con- 
fession here, and, having written it in the form of a narra- 
tive, as concisely as possible, I hope it will explain every- 
thing to your satisfaction, as well as the meaning of that 
poor girPs murder at Leith."" 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE STORY OF G. C. "" 

Paolo Anzoleto was a Roman gentleman of bad principles 
and violent passions, who, having entangled himself in some 
political snare, was obliged to leave his birthplace, and 
seek Venice, where he still continued to spread his sedition 
in secret. 

Going, one day, to a certain cathedral on one of the 
islets adjacent to the seven isles of Venice, Anzoleto 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


244 

chanced to observe a beautiful young girl among the nuns 
of the adjoining convent, whose sad and noble face at once 
captivated him. He never rested until he had found out 
her history, and obtained an interview. 

Her name was Giulia Contarini. She was the youngest 
daughter of a noble Venetian house, which had presented 
her to the church, and she was a novice of the second year, 
and would soon take the black vail and become a nun. 

Anzoleto contrived, on some clever pretense, to pay the 
young novitiate a private visit in the convent parlor; and, 
making good use of his seductive powers, drew from her 
a passionate confession of her dissatisfaction with the 
fate her house had assigned her, and her determina- 
tion to escape it on the first opportunity. Anzoleto in- 
stantly offered his assistance, and she as freely accepted 
it, treating him more as a paid instrument than as an ad- 
miring deliverer. 

At last, by Anzoleto’s clever scheming, the novice 
escaped, not only the walls of the convent, but the search 
of her outraged house, ,and 'was immediately placed in 
concealment in the obscure boarding-house, in Venice, of 
Signora Carlotta Marco, whose proprietor, an old lady of 
Signor Anzoleto’s acquaintance, promised to secrete the 
escaped nun safely, until a chance should occur of her pro- 
ceeding to England. 

Anzoleto almost immediately left the young lady on a 
secret mission of his own — no other than his favorite em- 
ployment of scouring Northern Italy with his brigands, 
and murdering and plundering wherever he found a trav- 
eler. This raid he intended to be his last before he left 
Italy forever, with Signorina Giulia as his wife, and settled 
in some quiet town in Britain. But, during his absence, all 
his plans were frustrated. 

One day, Mr. Moray Hazeldean, the Scotch artist, pass- 
ing through the street upon which Giulia Contarini's 
boarding-house looked, beheld her face at the window, 
and, interested by such spirited loveliness, he called, and 
craved from Carlotta the privilege of being permitted to 
transmit to canvas the signorina^’s face. With much diffi- 
culty the request was granted, and Mr. Moray had his way. 
Once a day this ardent admirer of female loveliness con- 
templated for hours this loveliest of her nation, with old 
Carlotta dozing by. Then, no sooner was the daily sitting 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


245 


over, than Mr. Moray gave his friend a lesson in English, 
so^that ere long these two became intimate, and spoke 
nothing but English to each other. Thus Carlotta lost 
much that was transpiring. 

Signorina Giulia soon confided her story to the young 
artist, and he earnestly counseled her to remove to Edin- 
burgh in the month of April, 'when he himself intended 
returning, and she would thus have at least a safe escort; 
but all the time Mr. Moray was resolving that he would 
win her himself, if possible, and present her to his brother 
when she was his wife; and Giulia was equally, though se- 
cretly, enamored of him, and forgot all previous claims of 
Anzoleto completely. 

In the midst of this sweet friendship, Mr. Moray was de- 
tained at home some few days by indisposition, and Signor 
Anzoleto arrived in Venice, and, proceeding at once to his 
friend, urged her to fly instantly with him from Italy, as he 
dared no longer stay in the country to protect her, but must 
leave it for political reasons. 

Overwhelmed by his tidings, and touched by her de- 
liverer’s extreme danger, Giulia allowed herself to be guided 
by him, and in the course of two hours the signorina, Car- 
lotta as companion, and Anzoleto had embarked for Liver- 
pool — Giulia not having been able to apprise Mr. Moray of 
her departure, and being afraid to leave any letter at her 
boarding-house for him, which might fall into strange 
hands, and betray her to her pursuers. 

Why Anzoleto should have chosen Edinburgh for his 
place of destination is not clearly shown. Perhaps Giulia’s 
womanly tact set his mind in that direction; at all events, 
he knew nothing then of the existence of Giulia’s new 
friend, Mr. Moray, and she never mentioned him in Anzo- 
leto’s presence. At all events. Signor Anzoleto took the 
first favorable opportunity of declaring his attachment to 
the fugitive novice, and urged his proposals in such a style 
that the bewildered signorina, appalled by her own friend- 
liness, and bitterly realizing that she had not the slightest 
acknowledged claim to Mr. Moray, who truly loved her, 
she had no doubt, after much distressed delay, finally felt 
forced to accept Paolo Anzoleto. 

He begged an immediate union, but the signorina firm- 
ly refused, and requested a year of betrothal, that she 
might understand better her feelings toward him. Struck 


246 


fS:E BRIBE ELECT. 


by the peculiarity of such a request from one in the fugi- 
tives position, Anzoleto pretended to acquiesce, but 
questioned Oarlotta well on the private concerns of his be- 
trothed, and soon heard tlie whole history of Mr. Moray's 
visits to her in Venice. 

Furious, he bade a hypocritical adieu to Signorina Con- 
tarini, and having placed her in a pleasant boarding-house 
at Leith, he returned to Venice, resolved at all hazards to 
meet with his rival, and avenge himself upon him for the 
loss of Giulia's affections. But here he was balked, for 
Mr. Moray had returned to Edinburgh in April, in bad 
health, attributed, no doubt, to his disappointment in the 
disappearance of the fair Italian, and his anxiety on her 
behalf. 

One day Mr. Moray was riding out at Leith, and he once 
more met Signorita Giulia walking on the sands with Car- 
lotta; he escorted them to their boarding-house, and heard 
with anguish of Giula's engagement to Anzoleto, and of her 
growing distrust and terror of him. Oarlotta had confessed 
all she knew relative to the character of ^ Signor Anzoleto, 
and Giulia heard with consternation that ’she was betrothed 
to a renegade and a brigand; so her passionate admiration 
of the noble-hearted artist rose in proportion to her hatred 
of Anzoleto, and she implored Mr. Moray to assist her to 
escape from such a frightful union. 

At first Mr. Moray generously advised her to renew her 
affection for Anzoleto, of whose crimes he was then igno- 
rant, promising to subdue his own affection for her as best 
he might, upon which the lady vehemently declared that 
she could never trust Paolo Anzoleto again, and that she had 
a good reason for fearing that she would be anything but 
happy with him. Still, she was too honorable to divulge 
her lover's fatal secrets to his rival, consequently Mr. Moray 
never clearly understood her dreadiul position, or he might 
have acted differently toward his hapless friend. 

In the middle of their interview, the terrified Oarlotta 
entered, and fell on her knees, weak old soul, imploring Mr. 
Moray to come no more to see the signorina, as Signor An- 
zoleto would certainly find it out, and would assassinate him. 
Mr. Moray then made arrangements for meeting Giulia pri- 
vately on the Leith sands, and withdrew, without any defi- 
nite arrangements having been arrived at. 

For some weeks Mr. Moray did not take any decided step, 


THE BRIDE ELECT 


247 


but met his beloved refugee as frequently as was safe, and 
it was during these sweet stolen interviews, no doubt, that 
the curious profile likeness was copied from the perfect face 
of Giulia Contarini, by the pencil of her lover. 

At last Mr. Moray consulted his brother on the subject 
next his heart, and avowed his wish to marry the unnamed 
lady; but met with such decided opposition on the lawyer^s 
part, that he felt hurt and discouraged, and for a time 
questioned strongly the propriety of introducing to his 
prejudiced family a sister-in-law of Signorina Oontarini's 
antecedents — an escaped nun and an inconstant bride- 
elect. 

The moment Mr. Moray confided the gist of his inter- 
view with his brother to Giulia Contarini, she, with sudden 
heroism, resolved not to be the cause of strife in a family 
whose very name she revered for the sake of Moray, and 
mournfully urged him to leave her forever, and forget his 
attachment, and so firm was she in her proud resolution, 
that Mr. Moray was at last forced to bid her, what they 
both meant to be, a last farewell, and, with anguish on each 
side, they parted. 

It was then that the trip through the north took place, 
when Mr. Moray tried, by change of scene, to drive her 
lovely image from his mind, and tried in vain.* 

A week after their return, Signorina Contarini wrote a 
wild letter to Mr. Moray, which he immediately read to 
his sister-in-law, upon which an eager discussion took place 
between the lawyer and his brother, Mr. Philip advising 
caution and fair play toward the former lover, and angrily 
asking why the lady did not seek the protection of her 
friends, if she feared to marry a villain, and not appeal to 
another lover? Mr. Moray indignantly resented the im- 
plied imputation, by saying that she had no friend who was 
not also her hated betrothed^s. 

And yet Mr. Moray delayed to seek her until her last 
appeal was brought him. It was such a frantic cry for help 
that Mr. Moray hastily thrust it into his brother’s hand, 
and he read it. Mr. Hazeldean has described that note 
accurately in his story. 

This note settled the matter. Mr. Hazeldean decided 
that they should go together to the residence of the lady, 
and grudgingly promised to offer her an asylum in his 
house should she be in personal danger, though he secretly 


248 TEE BRIDE ELECT. 

believed all the time that all was but a device to trap a 
wealthy husband. 

At Buckle's stables they procured a carriage, and we have 
already heard what passed there. Mr. Moray drove on 
alone, not to Gower lane, but to Leith road, and reached 
the boarding-house at half-past five. He asked for his 
friend — she was gone; for Carlotta — she also was gone. 
Almost frantic, he demanded an explanation. The land- 
lady ushered him into a disordered parlor, once the abode 
of the poor refugee, now bare and desolate, and seating 
him, gave him a brief account of the day's incidents. 

On the 24th, being the previous day (Monday), the 
young lady had received a letter from abroad which dis- 
turbed her greatly; she had written to town immediately, 
and appeared to anxiously expect the arrival of some one all 
through the day; no one appeared, however; she had written 
another note to town in the morning, and sent Carlotta out 
to post it. All of which Mr. Moray understood perfectly 
well, having received both the letters. 

While Carlotta was still absent the signorina went out, 
with the foreign letter in her hand, saying to the landlady 
that she would be back in a few minutes, that she was going 
to walk on the beach in order to cool her poor head. This 
was at two o'clock, and she had never returned. 

At half-past two a gentleman drove up from the railway 
station. It was Signor Anzoleto, and he wished to see the 
signorina instantly. When assured that she was not then 
in the house, he swore violently in Italian, and wanted to 
know with whom she had gone out, and was Carlotta with 
her? When truthfully informed on both these points, he 
strode off, with a curious smile, to find her. 

At four o'clock Carlotta came back, having been three 
hours absent — came back pale and agitated, and proceeding 
at once to the signorina's chambers, packed up everything 
belonging to her mistress and herself, and on being ques- 
tioned by the amazed landlady, stammered out that her 
mistress had gone away to be married, and had sent her 
back for her trunks. By half-past four the bill was paid, 
and Carlotta, effects and all, were off in a cab for the rail- 
way station; and up to half -past five, when Mr. Moray 
himself appeared in pursuit of Signorina Contarini, the land- 
lady firmly believed that he was the gentleman with whom 


THE BRIBE ELECT. 


249 


her boarder had eloped, though now she supposed it was 
Signor Anzoleto who had won her. 

And now appears the awful truth of this atrocious alfair, 
as confessed to me, three months later, by Paolo Anzoleto, 
the condemned criminal. 

When Signorina Contarini left her boarding-house, she 
wore a simple black silk dress, her hair in a careless coil at 
the back of her head, a broad hat, tied under the chin by 
crimson and black striped ribbons, and no shawl. As she 
walked on the sea-line, she kept her eyes fixed on the letter 
which she held open in her hand, and now and then pressed 
hev handkerchief to her face to wipe away the tears which 
bitterly flowed. 

This handkerchief was one belonging to a set she had pro- 
vided for herself in Edinburgh as a portion of her wedding 
trousseau ; this, with her initials embroidered in a corner, 
caused the close resemblance between her handkerchief and 
Glencora^’s. Possibly the same house furnished both the 
brides expectant, and a fantastic coincidence provided each 
with a duplicate lace handkerchief. 

After Giulia Contarini had paced Leith sands for some 
time, she sat down in a cleft of a projecting rock to delib- 
erate. 

The letter in her hand was from him, and told a fearful 
story. 

It accused her fiercely of ingratitude and inconstancy, 
avowed the reason which had sent Anzoleto back to Italy, 
that of finding his rival, and expressed the signoras rage at 
discovering that that rival was a native of Edinburgh, and 
was probably seeing Signorina Giulia daily, and further 
alineating her affections from himself. He menaced Mr. 
Moray with assassination, and Giulia with being given up to 
her house, unless she consented to fulfill her engagement 
with himself instantly upon his arrival in Edinburgh. And 
lastly. Signor Anzoleto announced that he was then on his 
way to claim her hand in fulfillment of her promise. 

And when Giulia Contarini read, she raised her eyes, and 
saw the dreaded Anzoleto striding toward her. 

In another moment he saw her. In vain she shrank be- 
hind the rock, and hoped to let him pass unconscious of her 
presence. He saw her, and accelerated his pace that she 
might not escape. And in these fearful moments of his ap- 
proach, she tore a shred from the blank sheet of his letter. 


m 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


and with her pencil-case hanging at her guard, she wrote 
those piteous words to Mr. Moray, with some vague hope, 
poor soul, of deliverance even then. 

Instead of rising and rushing away to put herself under 
the protection of the first gentleman she met, she sat petri- 
fied, and wrote vain prayers to Moray Hazeldean, and sealed 
her fate. Anzoleto reached her; he scanned her cold face 
with one lightning glance; he seized her hand, and twitched 
the morsel of paper from her fingers. And as he gathered 
the meaning of the few words, and saw his hlac&st sus- 
picions verified, his love made naught, his toil and risk for 
her all lost, her life at his mercy, and his rival highly 
throned in her heart, his bitter rage boiled over, his brain 
turned madly, he bent his dark eyes full upon Giulia, and 
the paper fiuttered from his fin'gers, and fell at her feet. 

With curious triviality, the poor lady stooped to pick from 
the rock the morsel of paper that condemned her; it bore 
Moray^s name, and perhaps she counted it too sacred to be 
trampled under Anzoleto^s feet; perhaps a wonderful pres- 
ence of mind warned her of danger to Moray should his 
name fiutter round the sea-shore in such strange connec- 
tion. She stooped, her fingers were on the paper, her hand- 
kerchief fiuttered from her other nerveless hand. In a mo- 
ment more it was in his; he had twisted it to a cord. At 
once was the bending head unpinned — ^the noose jerking 
round her throat — the knot tightening at the back of her 
head. Her dying fingers clutched the little note, her dying 
eyes gazed sadly into her murderer^s; without a struggle, 
poor Giulia Contrini^s head fell back on Paolo^s arm, and 
he clasped a corpse to his breast. 

Glancing around with curdling blood, Anzoleto saw that 
the sands were yet empty, and looking abroad for deliver- 
ance, eyed the retiring tide which churned deep and foam- 
ing at the base of the cliff where he knelt, with his victim 
lying limp and motionless across his arm. No more hashing 
witchery from those closed eyes, no more proud curving of 
those pale lips; that still bosom might never more harbor 
love for mortal or treachery. Ah, she was safe enough now! 

Anzoleto, with one long, passionate embrace, took the 
body in his arms, and cast it over the cliff. He saw the 
retreating waves suck it in, and then saw Giulia Contarini 
no more. 

Then the assassin crept away to find a cab, met Carlotta 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


251 


on the way, and ordered her to accompany him to a hotel. 
Here he told her a hastily constructed story, to the effect 
that he had made new arrangements for Signorina Conta- 
rini, to hide her from her newdover until she should con- 
sent to marry him; and, putting a falsehood in her mouth 
to allay the suspicions of the landlady, dispatched her to 
the boarding-house for her mistresses property. 

On her return, he quietly informed her that her services 
were no longer required; that her mistress was to have a 
more competent companion, and paid her passage to Flor- 
ence, where she was to reside until he gave her further 
notice. 

Carlotta, heartily in terror of the unprincipled Anzoleto, 
obeyed him as docilely as a child, and thus he got rid of 
the only clew which might trace Giulia Contarini to her 
death. 

Then, filled with a fury which was tenfold augmented by 
the late catastrophe, Anzoleto entered upon the task of his 
life— the work of avenging himself upon his rival. Mr. 
Moray never having seen Signor Anzoleto, it was compara- 
tively easy for the latter to effect his fell purpose. Ilis 
first move was to take up his residence in an empty house 
opposite Giulia^s boarding-house, and there he carefully 
watched for the gentleman that would probably call on the 
signorina in answer to the note Carlotta had carried him. 
Accordingly, at half-past five, Mr. Moray drove up, and 
Anzoleto, for the first time, examined the face of his rival, 
and fixed those noble features on his memory. 

When Mr. Moray drove away, Anzoleto followed at a 
safe distance in his own conveyance; in fact, he never 
quitted Mr. Moray until he entered the train, and then 
Anzoleto was in the next compartment. As Mr. Moray 
traveled, so traveled Signor Anzoleto, in car, omnibus, or 
steamer, with deadly intent, and under fifty different 
disguises. 

Straight to Venice went Mr. Moray, where he hoped to 
find Giulia. He first went to her former place of conceal- 
ment to- see Carlotta, whom he firmly believed would have 
returned to her boarding-house. 

Being disappointed in his inquiries at Signora Carlotta 
Marco^s boarding-house, Mr. Moray went back to the hotel, 
procured his valise, and left the city, with the intention of 
proceeding to the summer residence of Signor Contarini, 


252 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


the father of the missing Giulia. But when some miles 
from Venice, Mr. Moray and his courier, Nicolo, were sud- 
denly attacked by a party of desperadoes, headed by the 
well-known outlaw, Anzoleto; the devoted Moray Hezeldean 
was speedily overwhelmed by numbers and most deliber- 
ately slain by the leader of the brigands himself, while 
Nicolo, by superior fleetness, got clear, and rushed to the 
nearest village. 

Nicolo raised no alarm — appealed not to civil power. 
The poor traveler was buried unknown and unclaimed, and 
the courier nursed vengeance in his bosom, and patiently 
kept his secret until he might one day meet the scourge of 
his country, Anzoleto, face to face and bring him to justice 
by his own unaided efforts, when much fame and glory 
would be his. 

Paolo Anzoleto fled to Switzerland, hunted, hated, spirit- 
less, and unnoticed, until, on the 28th of October, the 
Venetian gondolier looked in his face and nodded his recog- 
nition to me, Simon Curtiss, an Edinburgh detective. 
The beautiful Giulia Contarini is dead, and the loyal- 
hearted Moray Hazeldean is dead, but they shall not lie un- 
avenged. In the lowest dungeon of Eome, this traitor, 
assassin, and miscreant awaits retribution. 

And so ends the story of Giula Contarini! 


CHAPTEE XXV. ' 

THE EKD OF THIS HISTORY. 

Once more Captain Drummond walked up the narrow, 
box-trimmed path to the Double House. 

Once more the captain was waiting in the little drawing- 
room, and with a deep sigh turned his eyes to the door, 
which opened, and Mr. Hazeldean came in. The frank 
face was gray with grief, the dark eyes stern, the pleasant 
air of good humor all gone. But he hurried forward with 
a brightening face and caught the captain's hand firmly. 

You, Captain Drummond?" cried he. WelcoTme in- 
deed, sir, at such a time. This is a queer affliction for our 
quiet family to meet with; yet, maybe, it's a just affliction. 
I shouldn't have been so stiff and uncharitable against the 
friendless woman; I should have trusted to his better 
judgment. Poor fellow! oh, poor fellow!" 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


253 


needn't try to cheer yon, Mr. Hazeldean/' said 
the captain, in a husky voice, ^'for I can't do that 
when Mr. Moray is gone; but I would like to tell you 
how deeply we all, even in our restoration to each other, 
sympathize with you and your dear wife in your brother's 
loss. Oh, man, it's a sore stroke for you !" 

‘^It is, Drummond," responded Mr. Ilazeldean, with 
much feeling, ^^yet you comfort me much by your manly, 
hearty friendship. We who had been at such variance, to 
clasp kind hands across these two graves! God bless you, 
Captain Drummond; I need a friend and brother, and 
here you come with your hale heart freely open to me!" 

‘"I'll be a true friend to you, Ilazeldean," cried the good 
captain, with tears in his eyes. “I’ll come like an old ac- 
quaintance to your house as often as I can, and you'll come 
to Lady-Bank; and I’ll bring Florice to see your wife. 
Poor little lassie, she can't say much to dispel such grief as 
hers, but she loves the sorrowful, my poor simple girlie 
does, for she has served a weary apprenticeship to sorrow 
herself." 

“Thank you, Drummond, thank you; yon angel face 
would carry comfort to even my dry, chilled heart, and 
Maisy will not but find sweetness and pure consolation in 
Florice Calvert's child-like character and giant-like hero- 
ism. Maisy's a good woman, and strives hard to make me 
look up to God's purpose, and not down at my dead. Alas! I 
loved that man, how dearly I cannot say — I had such pride 
in him, such delight in him, and such hopes for him! 
Maybe too much delight in his genius and amiability, 
without a thought of the Creator of both. Maisy says so, 
and I suppose it was so. And he is gone, my boy Moray, 
whom I loved. You must see Maisy," continued Philip 
Ilazeldean, warmly, as the captain rose; “ she needs a glint 
o' cheer from that true face of yours. Come, man, she's in 
the nursery, come in a minute." 

And there the captain still saw the pretty bit of life, the 
tender lady bending over the pretty babe in its nest. 

She rose, pallid in her somber robes, yet genial in her 
welcoming smile, and as she gave one hand to the visitor, 
she gave the other to her husband with tender pressure. “ It 
is sweet to see you two meet in friendship again," 
murmured Maisy Ilazeldean, with a starting tear. “ I was 
grieved at your estrangement. You will help Philip to 


254 


THE BBIDE ELECT 


bear this cross, Captain Drummond, will yon not? I can 
say so little that sounds conclusive to a man^s ears!’^ 

Your own gentle influence, Mrs. Hazeldean, will be 
stronger than cleverest arguments,^^ returned the captain, 
with glistening eyes. You must just both bow to the 
storm, believing that it was sent to drive you into a safe 
haven at last. Dll bring my Florice to make friends with 
you, Mrs. Hazeldean, said the captain, with a touch of 
love's glory on his hardy face. Such as you are sure to 
become like sisters." 

And thus was linked a lasting tie between those ad- 
versaries who had so bitterly striven against each other's 
most sacred feelings of friendship and brotherhood, and 
their meek women hallowed the tie with hearts of pure 
religion. 

:je 5|e * 

Strathmore Tower wore .another aspect in those succeed- 
ing days to the day of the Doom. Truly, it seemed to thrive 
on its ruin. No more surly secrecy and fretful quiet, no 
more locked gates and gloomy emptiness; the castle's ladies 
ordained a new regime; modern cheer reigned supreme 
where ancient moths were wont to revel. The court flags 
were torn up, the court walls torn down, grounds laid out, 
and fairly crowded with richest foliage; Mysie, a happy 
woman, whose eyes no longer swam with grief, had been 
installed as dearest maid to my Lady Glencora, and came 
up from Edinburgh to arrange the bridal chambers and the 
bridal feast; while old Andrew, the house steward, crooned 
and sang to his heart's content over the brightening fortunes 
of the emancipated House of Strathmore. 

Gavin, the major; heavily wended his way back to his 
regiment, and swore more mightily than ever; Kenneth, the 
student, thoughtfully departed on his travels, dreamed much 
that was noble and grand, and wrote it all in exquisite poems 
to Lady Kilmeny's memory; but Brown Kobin staid close 
by his broken old father in Bracken Hough, hunting, fish- 
ing, scaling mountains, and racing horses, as of yore, but 
never more flirting with the apple-cheeked, azure-eyed belles 
of Golspie. A silent man was Robin, the hunter, and his 
blue eyes were fuller of the tawny gloom than of youth's 
hrusquerie, his dun face slower in its genial smile of 
warmth, He had loved her in her d lys of prisonment and 


THE BRIDE ELECT. 


255 


madness; he dared not love her now in her days of calm 
content. Brave, simple soul ! his faith was but his bane. 
Better, indeed, he had loved lightly, than lost and loved 
forever. 

The ladies of Strathmore made a most amicable arrange- 
ment of the property. Lady Tresilyan arrogantly refusing 
to have any legal claim to Strathmore lands and title, and 
obstinately passing all rights into the hands of her elder 
twin. Lady Glencora. On the other hand, Glencora as im- 
periously insisted that her sister should sign a contract, 
promising to pass every summer at Strathmore Tower with 
her, entering the rejuvenated castle the day Lady Glencora 
entered it, and leaving it the day she left it. Thus the 
Strathmore Double Boses were to appear in perennial bloom 
each year at Strathmore Tower, every winter seeing them 
reinstated on their husbands' estates, Denburn, Edinburgh, 
and Tresilyan Wold, London. And Jessie, Madge, and 
Marian were to pass weeks of fairy pleasures with each dear 
sister in turn, while darling Florice, mistress of Lady-Bank, 
and wife of Anthony Drummond, smiled in the hearts of 
all like the gem worn on the breast of Eastern devotee as a 
talisman from harm. 

They sit in the Lady-Bank parlor, the Bride-Elect and 
her bridegroom. It is the day before the wedding — the 
leaves drift over the lawn crisp and clear, just four months 
since the day that opened the search. It is the same hour 
— a few minutes past five; the twilight has already com- 
menced, the wind sighs soothingly around the dear walls of 
Lady-Bank, and the avenue trees wave their long arms to 
and fro like dun bannerets. The room is half in shadow, 
half lit by gray translucence from twilight sky; the bride- 
litter is all cleared away, the bride-maids out on happy 
stroll. He holds her in his arms — her nestling head on his 
constant heart, her loving eyes on his constant face. 

And now, sweethearts, your little journey through the 
storm is over;, love, light, and happy fireside await you — 
open the door, and enter in. 

And so, farewell, Alexander and Glencora. 


[the ehd.] 





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